The Longest Wait of My Life | Teen Ink

The Longest Wait of My Life

November 1, 2013
By Rachelmilkyway BRONZE, Lewisville, Texas
Rachelmilkyway BRONZE, Lewisville, Texas
3 articles 0 photos 0 comments

Favorite Quote:
"I live to perform!"


Khaled Hosseini once said, "of all the hardships a person had to face, none was more punishing than the simple act of waiting." This couldn't be any truer than on February 18, 2013. This was the day took the longest car ride of my life.

Time ticked slower than a snail in a puddle of molasses. I was only traveling thirty minutes away, but it felt like I had walked to the other side of the earth when we finally got to the doctor's office.

Nothing is more frightening than getting a phone call from a specialist after an important test. When I got that exact phone call that morning , my heart sunk into my knees and I didn't stop sweating until I stepped foot into that suddenly intimidating office.

"You will want to have a seat." These were the first words out of the doctor's mouth. No hello, just sit and wait some more. He milled to his rolling stool and sat down like an elderly man that just attended a funeral of a loved one. I knew he was just as scared as I was.

"What I am about to tell you will change your life forever. There will be a lot of pain in your future that you will have to fight through because...well, because there is no cure." Those last four words stabbed me deeper than any knife could ever cut. He stared at me like I was the living dead.

"We have answers to your chronic back pain. But, it is not the answer we wanted." He paused for what seemed like a year.

"You have a tear in the most important disc in your spine." My mom lowered her head into her hands, and the room fell completely silent. My mouth was moving, but I couldn't speak.

"I am so sorry. A girl of your age should never ever have to go through something as painful as this." I stopped listening and my mind went white.

"Thank you," I said as I stretched my legs just enough to stand up. I looked at my mother and nodded my head. She stood, shaking and grabbed my hand. She whispered, "I love you. It will be okay," in my ear, then we slowly walked back to the Nissan.

The ride back was longer than the ride there. There were no words, no music, just silence. I knew I was thinking exactly what my mom was. What's next? Where do we go from here? How much pain? How much life will I miss? How much more struggle? How much more waiting?


The author's comments:
This is a true even that happened to me when I was 16. I still struggle with this discovery, and I am still searching for answers.

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