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Exerpt
My legs automatically began to pace the room from the two
waiting chairs to the oncologist’s desk to the cream-colored cot in front of me
to a small sink and mirror on the far right corner of the room, only to repeat
my tiny confined circle all over again. There was no soothing my anxiety. I was
strung far too tight. One twitch of a muscle, and my short fuse would ignite,
causing me to shoot off into the sky like a rocket. It was pure torture at its
finest.
For the first time that I could remember since I’d become
sick, Iris let me be, as though she knew how fragile I was. Each time I passed
her, I dimly noted that she had shifted in her seat.
At last, a knock sounded on the door.
I nearly shouted, “Come in!”
Dr. Enright strolled into the room, calm and collected as
ever. My gaze traveled over his face, attempting to read his royal-blue eyes,
in hopes of finding the answers I so desperately needed. They revealed nothing,
of course. He was a sealed vault.
He tilted his head toward Iris, causing his gray hair to
shimmer beneath the overhead lighting. Looking back at me, he said, “Ms.
Jennings, how are you this morning?”
I couldn’t lie to him. This was Dr. Lucas Enright, the man
who had to be around the age of my foster parents, and he held my future in his
hands. He knew all my worst fears about this tumor—the main one, the
possibility of having my life being ripped away from me. There was no reason to
withhold the truth from him.
“I’m a mess,” I confessed on a whoosh. My chest deflated
with the sudden harsh movement, and white stars danced in my line of vision.
Dr. Enright set his hand on my arm to steady me. I blinked
several times until I observed his brows were scrunched together—in
understanding or maybe pity.
Gosh, I hope that’s not pity.
“Raelyn, please have a seat.” He guided me toward Iris.
“With my old age, I’m afraid my reaction time has slowed. If you faint, I’d
hate for you to hurt yourself.”
I sat down next to Iris. She linked her hand with mine as
Dr. Enright pulled up his chair from my left and positioned himself right in
front of me.
I stopped breathing. This is it—the moment I’ve been waiting
for.
“Raelyn”—Dr. Enright let out a breath and smiled softly—“I’m
not going to go into in-depth medical details that you might not understand.
Hell, some of it I don’t even understand, as it clearly goes against science.”
His tone was full of wonder.
“Just tell me,” I cried unevenly, locking eyes with the
doctor before holding my breath once again.
“I’m delighted to say that you’re in remission, Raelyn.
There will be no need to continue another phase of chemotherapy.”
Iris shot forward in her chair, making it squeak against the
white tiled floor. “Oh my God,” she wept with a death grip on my hand.
The room began to spin as my vision blurred. Ten thousand
emotions seized me and held me captive. That short emotional fuse I’d been
worried about was now lit.
“What?” I asked Dr. Enright, my voice splintering along with
my heart at the possibility of his words being true. I was certain I had
misunderstood him. “But…but you told me that my chances of survival were”—I
blinked several times, but I stood no chance against the rush of
tears—“minimal.”
“They were,” the doctor stated softly, shaking his head in
awe. “I can’t really even explain it myself. As I said, the nature of your
specific type of glioma tumor was extremely aggressive, and for it to respond
to chemotherapy goes against science. My hopes were to give you more time,
knowing the odds of a complete recovery would be slim to none. Today, I sit
before you as a proud man to be proven wrong.” He revealed a genuine smile and
handed me my most recent scan. “Your MRI is clear. You are in complete
remission, Raelyn. You are cancer-free.”
Riveted in silence, I glanced down at the MRI. The mass I
recalled seeing on the original scan was indeed gone. By some miracle, it had
vanished with my treatments.
“I’m—” I broke off and inhaled a fresh breath of air. “I’m
cured?”
“Yes.” Dr. Enright beamed at me. Within seconds, his
expression sobered. “But, Raelyn, I need you to understand that, more often
than not, tumors such as yours have a high chance of redeveloping at some point
in time. With that said, there is little knowledge of how long you will remain
in remission.”
My throat swelled. I swallowed thickly at this new
information while nodding. “I understand.”
Dr. Enright placed his hand on mine. His eyes filled with
compassion as he said, “I will still need to monitor you closely, and we will
need to repeat an MRI every three months.”
“Okay.”
“Congratulations, Ms. Jennings.” Dr. Enright slightly lifted
his hand and offered a handshake. “You are a free woman.”
I slipped my palm into his, overtaken by the emotions
brewing inside me.
I’m free…but for how long?
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