Total pages in book: 215
Estimated words: 199344 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 997(@200wpm)___ 797(@250wpm)___ 664(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 199344 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 997(@200wpm)___ 797(@250wpm)___ 664(@300wpm)
She gives me a warm smile, and with that, I make my way out of her room, still clutching the photo, desperately needing it to remind me that even in the face of the impossible, I’ve beaten all odds, and if I can do it once, then I can sure as hell do it again.
When I was a kid, Dr. Sanchez’s office seemed huge, but now, it’s nothing more than a regular doctor’s office. Perhaps it’s because when I was young, looking at the doctor who cured my cancer, I always saw her as larger than life, but as the years went on, I gained a better understanding of my illness, and everything was brought into perspective. And now as I sit in this office, I’m filled with nothing but fear.
My parents sit on either side of me as I hold my hands in my lap, trying to conceal just how frantically they’re shaking. We’ve been here for two hours waiting for a chance for the doctor to squeeze us in. She’s highly recommended, and getting an appointment with her can sometimes be impossible, but I’ve been a frequent flier here for over a decade now. I’m on a first-name basis with most of her staff and nurses, and when I walked through the door, they were more than happy to try and squeeze us in. I just hope that this is all for nothing.
Mom has been quiet all morning, and Dad has done what little he can to keep us both from falling apart, but truth be told, he’s right on the edge as well.
Hope has been blowing up my phone all morning, wondering where I am and if I’m alright, and so far, I haven’t had the energy to respond, and it makes me feel like a cold-hearted bitch. But as soon as we’re out of here and I’m back home, I’m sure I’ll be feeling up to it. Right now, the fear of the unknown has my complete, undivided attention.
I’ve told Hope all about my past with leukemia and spoken about it openly, something I never really did with Tarni. Sure, she knows about it, but it was mentioned almost as an afterthought and then quickly shrugged off as though it didn’t matter. Hope though, she asks questions, wonders about that time in my life, wants to know how it all went down, and she makes me feel normal for still feeling the need to cry about it despite being cleared over ten years ago.
The nerves from sitting in this very office are eating me alive, and my knee bounces. I avoided Noah’s call this morning, knowing if he heard the sound of my voice or the tremble of fear within it, he would have jumped straight back in his car, leaving training behind. So, I settled for a quick text, letting him know I was running late and that I’d call him after school, making it two people I’ve let down today.
I’m not that person who hides things. I don’t lie to my friends, and I sure as hell don’t avoid Noah’s calls, especially when I’m in a constant state of missing him. But they will understand. They have to.
Dr. Sanchez’s office door opens, and as I look back over my shoulder, Mom places a steadying hand over mine, trying to help calm me.
Dr. Sanchez walks in, and a wide smile immediately spreads across her face. “Oh my, Zoey James,” she says fondly. “You seem to grow another whole foot every time I see you.”
Despite my nerves, a genuine smile pulls across my face, and we all stand up. Mom goes in first, giving Dr. Sanchez a warm hug before making the usual small talk. How have you been? It’s wonderful to see you again.
When the doctor walks around her desk and takes a seat, she’s looking at me like I’m a personal achievement of hers. “You must be seventeen now, is that right?” she asks, dropping down into her desk chair and flipping open my file.
“Yes, that’s right,” I say, watching as she scans over my paperwork, her brows furrowing. “We’re coming up to the ten-year anniversary of when you declared me cancer-free.”
“Indeed we are,” she says, a strange note in her tone. “However, according to my paperwork, I’m not scheduled to see you for another two months.” Her head snaps up, her honey-brown eyes scanning over my face in a new light. “What’s going on, Zoey?”
My gaze drops away in defeat. “I’ve been having symptoms,” I tell her as Mom reaches for my hand again.
“What kind of symptoms?” she pushes.
“I’ve been lethargic, having dizzy spells, and fainting,” I tell her. “No energy and tired all the time.”
“Okay,” she says, her gaze dropping back to my file as she digs a little deeper. “I see you’ve been keeping up with all of your scheduled tests. When was your last one?”