A Birthday to Remember

TWO

A river cuts through a rock

Not because of it's power

But because of it's persistence

"So how are you feeling?" Mom asked as she sipped her latte. We were sitting in the hospital Starbucks, eating muffins and sipping our lattes.

"I'm really nervous, honestly. Those all sounded like really serious things and I don't want to have them."

"But if you do, we'll get through it, okay?"

I nodded and took a bite of my chocolate chip muffin.

"Do you think that I'll still be able to go to school if I have those... problems?" I asked.

"I think for the most part. But I don't know how this goes and you're going to really have to rely on Dr. Kelia," she said.

I nodded. "I'm glad I like her, or things might be a little different."

Mom nodded in agreement. She checked her watch. "Alright, it's time to go."

I nodded and we got up to throw our plates and cups away. We went to the elevator, which took us to the third floor. There, we were lead to a room, exactly like the stark, white one we'd been in before, but everything was backwards.

A few minutes later, Dr. Kelia came in with the same laptop in her hand and a green folder that said my name on it.

"Hello, Serenity, how are you feeling?" she asked.

"I'm okay," I answered as she sat down in her spinning stool.

"Good. Now I'm here with your test results and then we'll go over the treatment options, okay?"

Mom and I both nodded and Dr. Kelia opened the file and took out a sheet of paper.

"After looking over your test results, we've determined that your white blood cells are taking over your red blood cells in a particular disease called leukemia. They've made themselves leukemia cells, which are very dangerous to your body and why your body has been reacting the way it has been."

"Is leukemia classified as cancer?" Mom asked.

"Yes, it is commonly known as blood cancer," she said.

Mom let out a loud sob beside me and hugged me, leaning over her chair beside me. "My baby girl has cancer," she sobbed loudly.

"Mom, it's okay," I said.

Dr. Kelia handed Mom a box of Kleenex. She gratefully took them and wiped her eyes, then her nose and placed them in the trash can sitting beside her.

"Would you like to hear treatment options, or do you need a minute?" Dr. Kelia asked.

Mom didn't answer, and I nodded. "I think Mom needs a minute to compose herself."

Dr. Kelia nodded. "I'll be consulting a patient and I'll be back with you in a few minutes."

I nodded and Mom continued to sob.

"Mom, you promised me that we would get through it."
She didn't respond.

"I know things are tough and it's okay to cry, but cancer is not the toughest thing to hit us. No matter what happens, we'll all be okay. You told me yourself," I said, a few tears slipping down my own cheeks.

Mom wiped her eyes again and sat up. "I'm sorry. I just don't want to see my baby girl's like go to waste. You were supposed to be so sucessful," she said and sobbed again.