My eyes unfocused on the way ahead of me, my heart pounding, my head whirling – I walked in a daze from the hospital. This was it – this had to be THE END.

            I had just been diagnosed with cancer. I had less than six months to live. The unfairness crashed upon me – I was just out of my teens! How could it happen to me?

            Somehow, I reached home. I tried to have dinner, but it was like trying to chew carpet. Giving it up, I flopped onto my bed and sank into a deep, uncomfortable sleep.

            It must have been hardly five minutes later that I woke up; after an extremely disturbing nightmare. All my old fears had come back – I had dreamt of my claustrophobia after a long time. The walls around me had constricted so much, I couldn’t breathe. Every artery and vein of mine had been squeezed – I shuddered. Switching on my bedside lamp, I rested my head against the sideboard. I sat with lethargy so complete that I sat there the entire night, cradling my head in my hands, staring dazedly into space without actually seeing anything there.

            The morning brought with it, if not a bright outlook, at least some measure of control. I decided that even though I couldn’t prevent death, I could stop someone’s heart aching the way mine was. Instinctively I thought of Sarah, a friend so close we were almost one. We’d always been there for each other –but I knew things would have to change now. We had to break up – so that my death wouldn’t come as a shock to her, so that she could deal with the pain when it came. At the thought of separating her, a small something rose inside me like a snake – would I be able to do this? I bit my lip, unwilling to cry. I could do this. I would hurt for six months – Sarah had a lifetime ahead of her that she deserved to spend happily. I decided she didn’t have to know about the cancer.