The Moment of Truth

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My mom came home crying. I don’t know what happened. I want to ask her what’s wrong, but I didn’t want to upset her some more. I could tell she wasn’t in the mood to talk about anything.

“What’s wrong mom?” I questioned her, but she didn’t answer. I didn’t know what to say or what to do.

“Grandma might have breast cancer,” she said as a tear dropped down her face.
I was in shock. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know what to say. Everything just went blank. The surrounding around me went black; the smell of the food around me just blew away. I felt like I was there all alone, standing in my kitchen. I felt like no one was around me, but really my mom, and dad were. I couldn’t explain how I felt. We didn’t know for sure if she did or not, but still, I didn’t like the idea how they “think” she has breast cancer. I stood there starring at the floor, tears rolling down my checks. I just felt like I needed to sit down.

I went to my room, trying to figure out what to do. I looked around in my room. I felt like I needed to clean my room. I just didn’t want to. I felt like I needed to eat something, but I don’t think I could of ate. I felt like I needed to take a shower, but I just took one that morning.

Since we didn’t know what was going on with her, like if she does have breast cancer or not, all we had to do was wait for the test to come back. So sitting there at my grandma’s house, with my whole family, waiting for a phone call. That day was the day we found out. I was just sitting there, holding my head up, starring at the phone, waiting for it to ring. I couldn’t smell anything but smoke. The room was filled up with smoke. I look up, saw my mom, eyes are red; tears are rolling down in her face, holding a tissue. My Aunt Amy, was sitting across the table, smoking a cigarette. She looked like she was starring deep into the floor. Who knows what she was thinking. All she kept doing was wiping her eyes. No tissue with her. My cousin, Chelsa, was also there. I could tell she was upset. She didn’t show it very much. Her two-year-old son, Haedyn, was there. At least she had some of it off her mind. My great Aunt Beck was standing by my grandma, holding on to her, telling her everything was okay. My grandma was sitting on the left side of me. I couldn’t look at her. I didn’t want to look at her. I tried, and when I did, I had to look away. I could see the fear in her eyes. I could tell she didn’t want that day to come. Nobody wanted that day to come. No one ever thought that day would happen. I looked over at my grandpa. I couldn’t even explain the facial expression on him. Starring at the T.V., petting Jade. Jade is my grandpa’s dog. She’s like another child to him. She looked like she was squishing him. I couldn’t even look at him either. All I wanted to do was cry. It was the worse day of my life. Everything to me was still blank. I didn’t care what I looked like; I didn’t care what other people looked like. I was just waiting on that phone to ring. My Uncle Gary was standing there, watching T.V.; I looked in the back of his head. There was a pink ribbon on the back of his head. I thought it was neat. My cousin did it. My Uncle Raymond had just walked in, just in time. Good thing he lived right down the road when all this had happened. Hours went by, no news from the doctor yet.

Around 6:30, the phone had rang. We looked on the T.V. to see who it was. It was the hospital.

“Hello?” asked my grandma as she answers the phone. It was the moment of truth. This hour finally came to find out if my grandma’s test results were bad news saying it’s positive or some really good news that it was negative and she don’t have breast cancer.

“It is?” my grandma asked. She dropped the phone. She couldn’t talk anymore. She hid her face into her hands. Tears filled her hands, falling down from her face, onto the table. My heart dropped. I didn’t know what to think. My whole body dropped. I had to get away. I couldn’t stand seeing my grandma like that. I knew what the doctors had said to my grandma. We all did. We couldn’t face it, but it was true. Her test results came back positive. My mom took the phone.

“Hello?” she asked. My mom walked out of the room explaining to the doctor that it was her daughter that he was talking to and that my grandma couldn’t talk on the phone.

I felt like the world was going to end. I knew it wasn’t going to. But with everyone’s looks on their face, the silence in the room, it sure felt like it.

“Grandma?” I asked. She looked up at me, wiping her eyes, “if I could do it, I know you can do it too.” She smiled at me. I went over to give her a hug and a kiss on the cheeks and whispered, “I love you grandma.”





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