I never thought I would be the one sitting in a cold hospital room, staring at a doctor whose eyes couldn’t meet mine. His words were heavy, almost whispered:“It’s stage four. I’m sorry… we’ve done all we can.”The room spun. My ears rang. All I could think about was my two children still in primary school. How would they survive without me?
I went home that day numb, carrying death in my chest like an unwanted guest.The weeks that followed were a blur of hospital visits, expensive medications, and unbearable pain. My body grew weak; my hair fell out. Friends stopped calling. Some relatives even started making funeral plans behind my back.One evening, as I lay on my bed.To read more,click here
