(Nate P.O.V)
In the days that followed, I found comfort with Arabella and Elliot. We laughed and played, setting aside the worry about the upcoming biopsy. One sunny day, we picnicked under a tree, Elliot’s laughter filling the air. Arabella’s presence eased my nerves.
Evenings were cosy as we watched movies and took walks under starry skies. Arabella’s support was unwavering, a reminder that we faced this together. Despite the looming uncertainty, their love and joy brought solace, a reminder that life’s simple pleasures still mattered.
Time slipped through my fingers like grains of sand, each day blurring into the next until the morning of the biopsy arrived. I sat in my study room, surrounded by files Elliot had left for me to review during his last visit.
Just as I was about to flip to the next page, the sudden shrill of my phone shattered the silence. I instinctively reached for the device, my heart picking up its pace. The caller ID flashed “Dr Matthew,” my oncologist. With a quick swipe, I answered the call, my voice tense but steady, “Hello, Dr Matthew.”
“Nate,” his voice held a gentle seriousness, “I wanted to discuss the results of the biopsy we conducted.”
My grip tightened on the phone, a knot forming in my stomach. “Go ahead, doctor.”
“We found that the cancer is more aggressive than we initially thought. The biopsy revealed a more advanced stage,” he explained, his words hanging heavily in the air.
My breath caught, and I sank into the chair, the gravity of the news sinking in. “More advanced? What does that mean, exactly?”
“We need to conduct an imaging test to assess the extent of its progression. I’ve already scheduled an appointment for you to come in for the test,” he reassured, his voice laced with a mix of empathy and determination.
I nodded, even though he couldn’t see me. “Alright, when is the appointment?”
“Two days from now. We’ll get a clearer picture of how advanced it has become, and from there, we can plan our next steps,” he said, his tone soothing yet resolute.
“Thank you, Dr. Matthew. I appreciate your honesty,” I replied, my voice softer now, gratitude mingling with apprehension.
“Take care, Nate. We’ll get through this together,” he assured me before we exchanged goodbyes and I ended the call.
Pushing back from the desk, I stood up and left the study behind. The hallway stretched before me, and I made my way to the kitchen. The cool tiles underfoot provided a stark contrast to the weight in my chest. Arabella, my wife, was at the counter, chopping vegetables for dinner.
She looked up, her eyes searching mine, “Nate, what’s wrong?”
I took a deep breath, mustering the strength to share the news. “The biopsy results came in. The cancer... it’s more advanced than we thought. We had to do an imaginary test to find out how server it was,”
Arabella’s hand paused mid-air, her eyes widening with a mix of concern and disbelief. “Oh, Nate…”
Tears welled up in my eyes, and I moved closer, wrapping my arms around her. As we held each other, the reality of the situation began to sink in, and the uncertainty of the future loomed large. But at that moment, in the embrace of my wife, there was a glimmer of hope, a reminder that no matter the challenges ahead, we would face them together.
Two days later, the passage of time had felt like a blur, the weight of uncertainty growing heavier with each passing moment. As the morning sun cast a soft glow over our home, Arabella and I gathered the necessities and prepared to set off for the appointment with the doctor. It was a crucial day, one that held answers to questions we were both afraid to ask.
Arabella took the wheel, her steady hands guiding us through the familiar streets. Yet, as we drove, her expression grew contemplative, and a sudden change of lanes took us on an unexpected route. Confusion clouded my thoughts, my brows furrowing as I looked at her, seeking an explanation.
“Why are we heading to the church?” I asked, my voice tinged with curiosity and a hint of concern.
Arabella’s gaze remained fixed on the road ahead, her fingers gripping the steering wheel. “I want to stop at the church for a moment. I want to pray for you, for your well-being,” she said softly, her words carrying a depth of emotion.
My disbelief was evident in the sceptical arch of my eyebrow. “Arabella, you know I don’t believe in God. Why would I go inside?”
She turned to look at me, her eyes pleading. “I know, Nate, but can’t you do it for me? Just this once. Pray with me, for my sake.”
I held her gaze, torn between my own convictions and her earnest request. After a moment, I let out a resigned sigh, giving in to her wishes. “Alright, fine. I’ll wait here in the car.”
She signed and stepped out of the car, making her way toward the quaint church that stood as a beacon of faith.
The journey to the doctor’s office stretched on, every passing minute seemed to drag like lead weights on my shoulders. I couldn’t shake the feeling of unease, the pit in my stomach growing deeper with each passing mile. The sterile white walls of the waiting room did nothing to ease my tension as I fidgeted in my seat, my mind racing with thoughts of what might lie ahead.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, a nurse appeared at the door. Her soft smile did little to calm my nerves as she informed us that the doctor was ready to see me. With hesitant steps, we approached the door and gave it a gentle knock. A familiar voice called out, “Come in.”
The door swung open, revealing Dr Matthew’s office. The air inside was heavy with the scent of antiseptic, and my heart pounded in my chest as I met the doctor’s gaze. His warm smile and steady demeanour offered a glimmer of reassurance, and he motioned for us to take a seat.
As we settled in, Dr Matthew began to explain my condition, his words a mixture of medical jargon and compassion. He painted a picture of the battle ahead, outlining the necessary tests to determine the extent of the threat I faced. It was overwhelming, to say the least, and I felt a whirlwind of emotions swirling within me.
He introduced us to Nurse Laura, who would be our guide through the labyrinthine corridors of medical procedures. With a kind nod, she led us to the ultrasound room.
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