The Diagnosis



I woke up, the date was September 19th, 2017. My stomach felt like it was being torn apart to shreds. I walked downstairs to get breakfast, but stopped at the couch. I laid down in agony. 

“Mom.” I muffled. “Can I have something to eat please?”

“Yes.” She replied. “Breakfast will be ready in 5 minutes, honey.”

I had never been in this much pain before. “Ughh. Oww.” I moan. It felt like I was going to die. I could smell breakfast from a mile away. My mom walks towards me. In her hands was a bagel with cream cheese and a tall glass of water.

“Here you go.” She said softly

“Thank you.” I replied. It hurt so bad to eat. I couldn’t eat. 

“Come on drink up.” Mom said. 

My head pounded from dehydration, and it hurt to drink. It felt like my energy bar was at zero percent. I had no idea what was to come ahead of me. My Aunt Laurie was over. My mom and her were conversing. Every so often they would look at me, but I could only hear murmurs. Whatever they were talking about, it was important. They walked towards me.

“Christian, Honey, we have to take you to the hospital. Okay?” Mom said gently.

“No, Mom please. I can’t go.” I cried.

“Come on we have to, you’re sick and there is definitely something wrong with you. It could be serious.” She replied 

I got up slowly and moped up to my room. I threw on a sweatshirt and put my Nike slides on. I walk downstairs and slowly out the front door. I open the car door and shut it. CLACK. I put my seatbelt on. Click. 

Forty-five minutes later I get to the hospital and look around. “I already don’t want to be here,” I say.

“I know that, but we have to make sure that you’re okay.” Mom replied. It can’t be too bad, I thought. That is where I may have jinxed it. We walk in unison to the front desk and begin getting checked in. 

“What is your birthday honey?” The lady at the front desk said. I paused and looked at her like she had 4 heads. Why would she ask for my birthday, I thought.

“Uhh five-ten-o’six.” I reply. She put the bracelet around my wrist. My eyes locked onto the foreign white plastic and I checked it out for a little. Some other lady took us to a little room. 

“How have you been feeling?” The lady said.

“My stomach has been hurting really bad.” I reply. 

She nodded her head. 

Mom added a bunch of other stuff, but I wasn’t really paying attention. I was distracted by the room I was in. As I glanced upward I noticed that on the styrofoam ceiling panels there had been a bunch of Disney characters painted. There was Mickey Mouse, Donald Duck, Cinderella. It was clear they were trying their best to make the little kids that visit this room comfortable, but I surely wasn’t. They finished talking. The nurse took my arm and wrapped a velcro bracelet around my arm, and put a little thing on my finger to track my pulse. 

“Alright.” She finished. We stood up and walked to where my room was.

“Everything will be okay Christian.” My aunt promised.

“Thank you, I hope I will be.” I reply.

I knew that I could trust her. At the time she had been dealing with Stage 4 Ovarian Cancer. I felt bad for her, and I tried to motivate myself. It can always be worse no matter what you have, I thought to myself.  We entered the room that I would be staying in. The nurse took a long, orange, elastic band and wrapped it around my bicep and took out a little needle along with 7 tubes. Then proceeded to give me a stress ball.

“One, two, three.” She said. I had no idea what she was doing. As she inserted the needle into the vein on the opposite side of my elbow, I groaned loudly. It didn’t work.

“No blood.” She said. She got a different needle.

“One, two, three.” She repeated. 

“OWW!.” I yell. 

I began to feel nauseous, like my stomach did 20 backflips. Tears started running down my face. “I don’t feel well.” I say with fear.

She didn’t acknowledge what I had said and continued to try and get a successful Intervenus (IV). And over and over again, I found myself yelling in pain five more times.

A little while later a doctor came in. She shook my hand. Her name was Doctor Beach, she is a well known Cardiologist. She was very kind and calmed me down after what had just happened. 

“We are going to do a quick ultrasound for your heartbeat.” She said. 

“No needles?” I question. 

“No needles.” She grinned.

We walked down the hall, took a right into a rather small room. In the room was a bed with a computer set up next to a monitor and televisión. I took my shirt off and lay down on the bed. The lady doing the ultrasound (not Dr.Beach) put cold gel next to my armpit. She glided the transducer probe in that area for a continuous 15 minutes.


Print Friendly, PDF & Email

1 thought on “The Diagnosis

  1. Overall, this was a very good story. The ending was a little confusing though. You never told us what you actually got diagnosed with.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *