6 months to live

Appointment

      My mother took me for my appointment with my oncologist. She was there as my extra ear but she was also mostly my support system. My mother was my rock, everything that happened in my life, she was the first to know. I would give up living the high life for her. She meant everything to me.

"Esta bien, cariño." My mother squeezed my hand as I cried to my oncologist. (It's okay, honey.)

The time was ticking, and ticking fast. It was as if I was in a video game and I only had half a life even though the game just started. That's what my life felt like. I had college ahead of me. I was supposed to graduate soon, but no because my health was down.
Even though my mom never brought my cancer up, I noticed that she noticed how worse it was getting. The both of us knew that I wouldn't make it to Thanksgiving, Christmas, or even......my birthday.

"Maya," my oncologist seized my attention with his masculine voice. "I know you didn't lose all of your hair last time you went through chemotherapy—"

"N-no!" I sniffled. I threw my hands on my head so I could feel my sleek hair. Sure it looked disorderly and my roots were slowly dying but it was hair. My hair.

"Expect to lose all of your hair after your next round of chemotherapy. It will either happen quickly or over the course of the week." I hated how calm and professional he was acting. His voice was too soothing to a point where it sounded like even he knew I would die. It sounded like he blatantly didn't care about if I had a little chance of survival left.

"Why does she have so many rounds of chemotherapy?" My mother stroked my hair. I slapped her hand away before it got near me.

My oncologist looked over at my mother. "We could get rid of your daughter's cancer almost completely by giving her all of the dosage of chemo that she needs and you wouldn't have anymore rounds left. That would end up killing the patient because of the toxicity of chemo. It would kill the cancer cells and her healthy cells...which would then result on her death. That's the reason why we give her proper amounts in cycles."

That must've aggravated my mother because her voice started to project louder. "Why don't you just give her surgery? Wouldn't that get rid of her cancer completely?"

My oncologist shook his head. "Not for her. The tumor is deep inside her brain and its rapidly multiplying. The area the tumor is surrounding is very, very fragile and very important. We really don't want to risk either leaving your daughter mentally deformed or...dead."

"You know what I think?!" My mother shouted. "You have the cure! Everyone of you that works in this hospital are monsters! You guys are hiding the cure because this is the only way you guys are making the big bucks while people are putting your job on a high pedestal, you......bastardo!"

"We're only doing what's right for your daughter, miss. We really do wish her the best. Every patient matters to us and we understand your reaction and how you're feeling. You just need us to handle your daughter. We have her in great care."

I didn't believe him, and I guess my mother didn't either.

"How many cancer patients have died in this hospital?"

The man didn't hesitate to speak. "That is confidential information, miss. I am not authorized to give out information like that. I'm here to help your daughter so she knows what to expect during her next round of chemo."

I really wanted to ask why they sent me home the first time I went to the hospital. Even though I told them about what I experienced....they sent me home with a doctor's letter for gym class.

Although my blood was boiling to ask him, I just took a deep breath and I let it go.