Gemotions

Her hands were trembling so violently she could barely hold the phone. Across the table, the doctor was calmly explaining that the results in her file – the ones indicating a rare and aggressive form of cancer – weren’t hers. The words felt like lead bricks sinking into her stomach. She stared at the man, the pleasant office, the framed diplomas, and felt a wave of dizziness. She gripped the edge of the table, knuckles white, desperately trying to ground herself.

A cold sweat erupted on her brow. All the planning, the discussions about treatment options, the sheer terror she'd been living with for the past week, suddenly evaporated. She wanted to laugh, to cry, to scream. Instead, a choked, “But…but how?” escaped her lips, the sound thin and reedy.

She felt like she was trapped in a dream, a nightmare. The diagnosis had felt real, the fear debilitating. Now, this…this unbelievable reality. She felt utterly unmoored.