Nineteen-year-old, Bea Somerton, knows exactly how she wants to live. Become a doctor, remain in remission from her childhood Leukaemia and have a happy, normal, life.
The last thing she expects is to meet rising star and troubled musician, Holden P...
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It takes one single moment to change your life. One defining, often minuscule, moment that has the ability to alter your life course.
"We regret to inform you, Blake, that you have been diagnosed with Acute Myeloid Leukaemia..."
This is mine.
"Now, we know this may seem scary, but as you know..."
I feel Parker grab for my hand. He squeezes; twice. Let's go. Squeezes. Our old hand gesture to check on one another. I don't return it.
I can barely feel his fingers against my clammy skin. Tinnitus takes over my hearing and I zone out entirely. Doctor Anderson's mouth is moving, but I may as well be underwater. The room is drowning me.
"We'd like to discuss possible treatments with you. If you choose to undertake a treatment, we suggest immediately beginning chemotherapy. We'd also like you to have a CT scan, chest x-ray and lumbar puncture to to examine whether it has spread—"
In and out. His voice wavers like an echo pulling me close and drifting away slowly in the breeze.
"The chances of survival for someone with my type of leukaemia is roughly twenty-five percent. Sixty-seven if you're younger than twenty, but what does that mean if you're skimming the edge of your twenties? What's the chance of me actually makingit to twenty, doctor?" I interrupt.
"Blake," Parker whispers.
"I want to know," I say sternly, meeting Doctor Anderson's eyes. "I want to know if having chemotherapy is even worth it."
Parker stills beside me. "Blake," he warns.
"I want to know," I repeat, ignoring his eyes boring into the side of me.
He suddenly stands, striding towards the door. I keep my eyes on Doctor Anderson as he slams it shut behind him, his footsteps retreating down the hallway.
"I know your job description includes helping people, Doctor Anderson, but I need to know, first and for most, if going through it all again can guarantee my life."
I watch his eyes flicker suddenly, the slightest movement to the closed door before his ageing face finds me once again. I have my answer without being rewarded with the words. It's written so clearly in the silence.
"Nothing can ever be guaranteed, Blake," he concedes. "But you have to think of all the positives. You're young, you're fit. In regards to regaining your remission, everything is on your side."
"Except my own body," I mumble, smiling sadly at him.
"I can't make this decision for you," he continues. "But I strongly believe that you can beat this again."
"I remember what it was like, though. The chemo. It drained me. I may as well have been a corpse for three years," I acknowledge. "All I've wanted since then is to take back all the time I lost. To travel. To land my dream job. To just live."
