Life expectancy

Even though they told me not to, I went ahead and devoured every single slice of that chocolate cake and I did not regret it one tiny bit. I threw away the box where it came from and my eyes fixated at my cellphone. 

I have fought every single day for most of my adult life and I was tired. God only knew how tired I was. The moment they told me it is back and is more aggressive, I knew the options already. I had taken every precaution they recommended, and it was still back. The call ended the moment the doctor’s secretary said you need to come to the office tomorrow. I knew exactly what that meant.

The doctor was going to explain to me the options I had: how to fight, the potential side effects and the option they never expected me to take: my life expectancy if I didn’t. I had kept everyone at arm’s reach because I wanted to prevent any emotional turmoil this disease could cause them, and now I was all alone because of it. I had no one else to blame but myself. I thought I was a fighter; I thought my life was going to start after I beat the cancer for good. How naïve I was. In reality, I was a coward; I had this expectation in life that if I checked every single checkbox in the list somehow everything was going to be exactly how I planned in my head: 

Beat Cancer (First time)- Checked

Find someone to spend my life with- Not checked

Travel the world- Not checked

Be happy- Not checked.

The list could go on and on. Time is a precious thing as it is volatile. I had become such a cliché: I thought I had more time. I thought by turning down dates, by turning down vacations, I was doing the right thing and the future would repay me. Throughout the night I spent thinking of my missing chances and all those missed kisses, potential what ifs in life, and the more and more I thought of it, the angrier I got. I tried to blame it to everybody before going full circle again and assuming my responsibility.

The doctor gave me the options and even with treatment the finality of my life was set no longer than a year. My mind wandered, and I saw my future tied to the hospital day in, day out. I asked the question I didn’t dare to ask the first time I had the prognosis. The answer: No longer than three months. The life sentence had been declared, and it was up to me to choose. For the first time I threw away the list branded in the back of my head. I thanked the doctor and left his office. I had no clue what I was going to do with the time I had left. I already knew which choice I was going to go for. I had three months to make up for lost time and then I sighed. No, I had three months to live. Live the life I wanted. Having this time set in my life, I realized I was a prisoner of my thoughts and my circumstances. I made my own jail because I had no idea what I wanted or what I liked. I laughed at the stupidity of the situation. Better late than ever. I turned on my cellphone and booked a one-way flight. Destination: Anywhere. Things I needed to try on this trip: Everything. If my life expectancy was set, then I was going to make the most of it with the time I had left. I made a promise right then and there to stop blaming me and just live. Enough was enough. I closed my eyes for a moment. Eventually, I called a taxi with my waving hand.

“Where to?”

“Airport,” 

Not looking back anymore. Just looking forward.