The Bad News

By , Hartland, WI
Thump, thump. Thump, thump. The sound I hear as I walk into the building. My heart is pounding a million beats per second. I’m anxious to hear what the doctor will say this time.

Thump, thump. Thump, thump. I sit in his office and wait for the news he is about to tell me.

The door opens and the doctor walks in. He greets me with an amicable hello and starts to read my file. As he scrutinizes the file I can’t help but notice the pounding in my head. Thump, thump. Thump, thump.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “The cancer doesn’t seem to be going away… However, I do advocate the option of chemotherapy…”
Each time he solicits me for chemotherapy. Each time, I say no. I am loath to the option of chemotherapy because it is nefarious. I don’t want to feel ineffectual from the side effects. What I do want is to live my life freely and not be tied down from this malady.
“It would be astute to take my advice; it could save your life…”

I can’t hear his vexatious voice anymore. I hear only one sound. Thump, thump. Thump, thump.





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