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Hope is a scary thing


I knew it. I shouldn’t have hoped for things to get better. I was foolish. This was foolish. Imagine how much money I have spent and all for what? A death sentence? Why did I even try one more time? I was already living a quiet and happy life until I decided to have this damn tumor checked. Ten years is already a long extension to my life. I have fought a good fight, I’m tired.


I’m scared. I’m very scared. This has to be the worst condition he has faced since we found out he had cancer. Why didn’t I ask him to have it checked as soon as I saw the early signs of another tumor? Why did I hope that it was only benign and that chemotherapy could cure him again. Why was I so optimistic? It’s all probably my fault. I have been praying though. I have been praying to every saint I can find. I have been wishing, kneeling and crying that some greater divine being can save him. I hope he gets better. I can’t imagine life without him.


He was sick ever since we were little. But it’s only now that I found out what it was and how serious it really is. They didn’t really tell me things back then. I remember when I was younger and we’d go to the doctor every week. I didn’t know it was chemotherapy. He was the only one who got inside the doctor’s room while my mom, my brother and I waited outside. I remember always wanting to eat at KFC while he was inside. One time he got mad because we were at KFC and he was finished with his session but we were still eating. I thought he was just being impatient. It’s only now that I realize that he was just probably tired and weak. Nowadays, when I look at him I get so sad. He’s not getting any better. Truth be told, he’s getting worse. Just last week I was searching the internet for herbal medicines or anything that can cure cancer. I found this magic juice which a lot of people were recommending. I found a local dealer. I bought three bottles. He’s been drinking it.


I don’t recall much when I was younger but now that I’m older, I’m always with him every step of the way. I guess that’s expected from a son. Life will never be the same without him. He is my everything. He means a lot to me and to the people around me. Sure, he wasn’t all that great of a dad. Nobody’s perfect. But he will always be perfect for me. Sometimes I don’t know what to pray for. All my prayers seem to end with “Jesus, Your will be done.” I don’t know if that’s a good prayer or if that’s the prayer my family needs. I’m scared to wish or pray that he’ll get better when every doctor we’ve seen have said otherwise. I do hope that he’ll live to fight it. Until then, all I can ever wish for is he’ll still be fighting tomorrow.

Inspired by cancer patients and their battles. May you continue fighting. You are in my prayers.


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  1. Pingback: Eating Like A Refugee | The Ration Challenge | Ramisa the Authoress

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