It’s been a month since The Most Terrible Day.

“I’m sorry son,” the doctor had told mama and I. “You have Leukemia.”
I’d never imagine that 8 words could feel so devastating. So cruel. Like cold, ice fingers scampering down my back. My whole body trembled as I dropped to my knees. Mama embraced my little, 11 year old body as we both cried out. Mama tightly wrapped her lengthy arms around my body as our tears stained the floor. Eventually, when the floodgates had finally closed, we left The Worst Place. I had come to accept the fact that I had stage 3 Leukemia.
“I’m here for you,” mama had told me. “I will always be here for you.”
I hugged her and bid her good night. I would start chemo-therapy the next day.
That was one month ago. One month since The Most Terrible Day. I had received bone-chilling chemotherapy almost everyday since I was diagnosed. My bone marrow was still graced with abnormal enemies. Constantly invading the bone marrows territory.
“How do you feel?” my mother asked as the IV dripped combative medicines into my glowing, blue veins.
I was in a totally different universe of pain. My arms were ignited with blinding fire and my legs were newly covered with hot, steaming lava.
“I’m doing okay mom,” I would say knowing deep down I was lying through my lips.
I hated seeing her cry, so I would lie in order to give her some hope, albeit it being false hope.
“Good buddy I’m glad,” she would say as her lips curled upwards into a majestic, curled smile.
I love that smile.
”Alright buddy, time to examine your test results,” Dr. James interrupted.
Mom and I watched on as he took out a sheet of laminated, black paper. He raised it onto what appeared to be a large screen attached to the wall. The screen helped to make the images appear on the paper. Mom and I looked on anxiously, not quite understanding what we were looking at.
“Oh…. no,” Dr. James gasped. “It’s.. it’s spread. I’m very sorry.”
I couldn’t believe it. The cancer that had once occupied the bone marrow within my arms had moved significantly halfway down my legs. Tears rolled freely down mama’s face as she looked into my eyes.
“Mama,” I choked out. “Mama, don’t cry.”
She reached down and grasped my cold, clammy hands.
“We’re going to get through this.” she whispered. “Together. You and I.”
A tear, like hot, slippery ice weaved down my cheek. Mother graciously wiped it away.
  It had been 15 days since we found out that my cancer had spread. In 1 hour, mama and I would travel back to The Worst Place. I would be having my daily chemo-drip but also, would be taking more X-rays. Today, we would find out if the combative chemo-drug had helped to direct my cancer-filled bone marrow into remission. The drive to The Worst Place was silent. A growing tension had risen in the car. Not because mama and I were arguing, but because we were mentally prepared for The Worst Case Scenario. We crossed through the threshold of The Worst Place and entered into the ominous waiting room. Of course, it was just a room painted  stale blue with childish stickers plastered on the wall. However, given the circumstances, the room might as well of been filled with gnawing great whites or blood stained knives. My stomach back-flipped. I intertwined mama’s fingers in mine as I rested my head softly on her shoulders. She whispered phrases of encouragement as I trembled in her arms.
“You’ll be fine,” she said. “We all know what those test results are going to say. You’re in remission!”
I loved my mama, but I knew she had no way of knowing. Truth be told, she was as scared as I was. I looked up at her glimmering face to see if her smile was curved. If it was, I would know that she truly believed the words she was saying. The smile that I loved, the curves at the ends that stopped time, were nowhere in sight. I mentally steeled myself for what was to come.
Years. That’s how long we were waiting in The Ominous Waiting Room. Of course, it had only been 30 minutes or so, but my nerves had made all time prolong itself. FInally, my name was called by Dr. James's assistant. She was a beautiful lady with blonde, curly hair. Her smile was bright and she wore it with pride.
“Couldn’t beat mama’s,” I whispered to myself.
Inside, I took a seat in the comfortable, leather matted chair. The Smiling Nurse came in and did all of the usual things that happened on a visit to The Worst Place. The tight armband type thing was wrapped around my childish bicep as it tightened with each pump. Ms. Smiling Nurse wore a bright tooth grin that could blind eyes. I silently wondered if she was trying to prepare me for The Worst Case Scenario.
“Okay hun, are you ready?” she asked with bright eyes.
  However, I realized those eyes were only bright so they could distract me from her hands. She held the needle of death that was filled with combative armies.
“Hold on a minute,” I looked to my mother in hopes that the smiling curves would appear on her lips.
No such luck. My mother fake smiled as she looked on.
“Okay, I’m ready.” I whispered.
Ms. Smiling Nurse proceeded to impale my blue vein. Pain shot through my arm, but I didn’t dare move a muscle. I was used to this. Everyday, I would come and feel the icy medicine slither and writhe it’s way into my veins. I swore I could feel it dance around, as it moved through my cancer-ridden arms and the destroyed bone marrow within my legs. I didn’t dare move a muscle. 30 minutes. That’s how long it took the IV drip to finally exert itself. When it was over, Dr. James would come in and conduct X-Rays and examinations. However, until then, I would wait. I would sit still while a certain fire ignited within my body. My mother told jokes to pass the time. Every time she told a punch line, I would pretend to smile while looking into her eyes. I was looking for The Thing That I Loved. The Smile That I Loved. No such luck.
“Hello!” Mr. James barged into the room.
“Hi,” I softly replied.
His upbeat attitude annoyed me. He wasn’t the who one currently had a 4 inch needle sticking out of his 11 year old vein. Nope. That was me.
“Are you ready to get tested?” he asked in a more serious tone.
“Yes, I am,” I answered back.
Truth was, I was scared to death. What if my cancer wasn’t in remission? Or worse, what if it had spread? I was already stage 3, is it possible that I would be up-ranked to stage 4? Tears threatened to overflow my eyes. However, I had to be strong.
“Well, let’s go then,” Mr. James said.
And with that, I got up from the leather chair and kissed my mother good bye.
“You’ll be fine,” she told me.
Then she smiled. The Smile That I loved was spread broadly across her lips. I took one last look back at my mother as the doors separated us. I found myself within a dimly lit hallway following slowly behind a fast-paced Dr. James. However, while I continued to walk my knees buckled and my thighs were struck by lightning.
“That’s weird,” I thought. “This has never happened before.”
However, as my worrying thoughts continued to form, the fire within my bone marrow grew worst. My knees hit the cold, stained floor and soon I was writhing and squirming in agony. My silent worrying thoughts had transformed into blood-curdling screams. Tears littered the floor, as I desperately struggled to gain control over the war that was occurring within my marrow. Doctors and nurses dressed in satin white coats or sky blue scrubs came to my aid. The fire that had once graced my limbs was diminishing. All sound struggled to present itself, as the lights in The Worst Place dimmed and turned black. I plummeted deeper and deeper into a sleep that was peaceful.

Peace and quiet at last. At last the world was peace and quiet.