A couple days ago, they told me there was a chance that I had a certain type of cancer.
My first thoughts? nothing. blank.
Seconds? still blank...windowpaintingdeskglasseshandbraceletshoefloorfloor....
Third, okay, well...my brother beat cancer, why can't I?
Fourth, why is this happening to me? why does this stuff only happen to me??
and then Fifth, we have to live each day to the fullest and all that, right? RIGHT?
Today I learnt the results were negative and it was something else, an infection last month, that made these supposed ''numbers'' supposedly look like something they were not. Though for some reason my liver has got a mind of it's own...though nothing serious as of yet.
I can't say that I'm proud of the way I treated myself during these days, if anything I'm almost ashamed. What if the results had been positive? What if I did have a diminished chance of making it?
That's it, fresh start. Life cannot be wasted in tears. It's back to the surface now, my life is far far far from over.