Adust

Adust

An overwhelming feeling crowded my chest, everything felt disoriented and something heavy surrounded the air, which made it impossible to breathe. Every bone in my body begged for movement while every nerve carried a different emotion to my barely functioning brain. My soul felt like it had been thrown into a roaring blaze and had been burning and dying since so long that it had given up on redemption. 

I forced myself to ignore the burning sensation and open my eyes which only caused the pain to intensify as panic mixed in the whirlpool of already overflowing sensations. After I came out of my daze, I realized that I was strapped to a dozen machines all making the same traumatizing beeping sound. My body was clad in a loose blue cloth and as far as my eyes could see there were purple and blue bruises covering my pale skin. Dread washed over me and suddenly I was wide awake and completely aware of my surroundings.

No, no! This cannot be happening!

This was all supposed to be over!

I had won, for god’s sake! I had won!

Just when I was about to go spiraling into insanity, Dr.Miller entered the room clad in a white coat, his hands holding a clipboard which I could only assume were my test reports. His face was completely stoic, and if I hadn’t seen this expression on him a million times before I would have missed the twinkle of sadness in his eyes. 

“Hi Kat, how are you feeling?” he enquired gently, settling on the stool next to my bed.

“I am pretty sure you know the answer.” I say trying to lighten up the mood. A small smile creeps onto his lips and seeing it a chuckle erupts from my throat. But a coughing fit burns out the tiniest speck of joy and hope from the room.

Suddenly the gravity of the situation hits me. I know avoiding the news won’t help me, so it’s best to rip the band-aid off.

“It’s not easy for me to say it Kat, it will never be. But your tracheal cancer is back.” He whispers, so much empathy and pain in his eyes that it makes me heart burn, almost as much as my eyes do with tears and my trachea does with suffering. 

There the band aid is gone, but now the wound is open and it’s bleeding again.

“It was not supposed to come back! I was done! You said it yourself!” I scream, ignoring the ache.

Sympathetic arms caged me almost like a silent promise that it would all be better soon.

I sniffled and coughed but Dr.Miller held me tightly, the sting of having no family intensified and soothed all together at the same time.

“We will get through this Katherine. I know we will.” He chanted repeatedly, and just like that for a second the blaze didn’t set my soul on fire, but rather gave it warmth.

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Saumaya Gupta
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