“Are you sure you don’t want a large? It’s only 50 cents more than the medium.”

Friday mornings were just like Thursday mornings and Thursday mornings we’re just like Wednesday, Tuesday and Monday mornings. Wake up to get ready, get in the car, quick stop at the local coffee shop, get to work and sit in a cubicle for the next eight hours, drive home, eat dinner with the family and then drift into sleep. Wake up. Repeat.

“Uh, yes I’ll get the large.” He stammered back to the barista. He payed for his coffee and waited in the line for it to be made. When it was ready he grabbed his coffee and walked briskly towards his car.

After parking in the same spot that he always does he walked into the building and saw the many familiar faces. All of his co workers greeted him like they normally do, but something was off. He had felt sick lately. Not a cold kind of sick, a stomach curling, mind boggling kind of sick. Walking to his work area he felt slightly dizzy and when he sat down it felt like he was on a freefall ride at the fair.

Eight hours. A whole eight hours with his head dizzy and his stomach in knots. He continuously looked at the clock waiting for his work day to end. Time seemed to have been slower and slower. When the minute hand reached the twelve he grabbed his bag and walked to his car as fast as he could.

Driving home was difficult as his head was pounding and he felt as if he was going to faint. There was something amiss with his vision as he saw several black spots every where he looked. He pulled into the driveway and rushed into the house. Greeted by his wife and his three adoring children and being ushered into the dining room for an accustomed family dinner. This looked like the kind of family you’d see in the picture frames throughout the store, but it wasn’t; he wasn’t. His mind was a subway map of New York City, everything connected but he didn’t know how.

He sat at the table concentrating on using his fork, concentrating on chewing and not forgetting to swallow. His family were entranced in a conversation of their own which sounded like a foreign language to him. Everything was jumbled and muffled and he couldn’t tell who was talking when. Are they saying his name? That’s what he thinks he can hear. It starts to feel as though time has slowed down and he no longer is capable of moving his hand, or chewing, or swallowing.

He awoke in a white room filled with the morning light and a continuous beeping sound in the background. Similar to the noise a truck makes when it backs up, a warning. He looked at his surroundings, his face contorted in confusion. He could hear his wife barely and the sound of his youngest daughter crying softly. “He’s awake! Oh, he’s awake!” He heard the words several times as he regained consciousness.

He sat up in anticipation as the doctor walked in. All he wanted was answers. Why was he in the hospital? What time is it? All he could remember was eating his dinner as his family around him talked about their days. “You had a seizure. We’ve been running some tests while you were still asleep and you will be told the results as soon as we know what is happening.” The doctor wrote on his clipboard while he was talking. “We want to take a few more tests, but after that you can leave.”

It felt to him like he was in one of the science fiction movies about aliens. He was the alien laid upon a table and the doctors were the ones performing tests on him. His blood was taken and so were X-Rays. Hours upon hours of tests and beeping and the worried faces of his family. He wanted nothing more than to go home and lay in his own bed, not the one the hospital provides. Hours after the tests the doctor returned with words that would change the family’s life.

“We did some tests and we got all of the results back. I’m terribly sorry to tell you, but you have a very rare brain cancer and there’s nothing we can do.”