A Childhood Cancer Survivor Blogging about the World of Childhood Cancer

 

     As I stood there, splattered against the target board like a swatted fly, I prayed for results. I prayed for death. Not of me, but it. After I had changed back into my own clothes in the tiny, curtain-closed room, I emerged.

     “Can we see them?” I heard Mom ask the technician.

     “Sure,” he replied, tilting the computer screen slightly toward us.

     Woh, it was my chest. White areas illustrated bones, tissues, and organs… I saw a lot of it. My invasive blob was quite apparent and I silently snarled at it; it didn’t answer back. It was so weird staring at myself, but being myself all at the same moment. It was confusing to my mind, this being the first personal x-ray it had seen.

     “Wow, that used to be all white there,” Mom observed, pointing to a dark, black area.

     I held my breath, I was overjoyed.

copyright by Melinda Marchiano, author of Grace

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