My mouth went dry.
“A tumor?”
“We can’t say that yet. We need more tests.”
Within days, I had additional scans, blood tests, and specialist consultations.
I barely slept.
Every time I closed my eyes, I remembered Emily’s final days.
She had been fifteen when she died.
Before that, she had always been healthy, energetic, and curious.
Then one afternoon, she began complaining of a terrible headache.
What no one realized at first was that she had an undetected brain condition.
After losing her, I became terrified of hidden illnesses.
Things that could already be there.
Silent.
Growing.
Waiting.
And now the doctors had called Thomas and me into another consultation.
The specialist placed several images in front of us.
“There is a mass on your right kidney.”
I froze.
“How long has it been there?”
“We can’t know exactly. But judging by its size, possibly several years.”
