Everything paused. I couldn't feel an electric charge moving. The wind stopped. I couldn't feel myself breathing, but I knew I was. Nothing was right. The doctor stood in front of me; his white lab coat tattered and stained with coffee. I saw his lips moving, but no sound passed from them. I turned to the window to see if I was the only one frozen. Was I stuck in a rigid form or was everything else? I have to be imagining this. I thought as I sat. Nothing was processing. My brain rejected every thought in the world. What were thoughts? What was life? The world felt foreign, but an uncomfortable familiar. The world was beaming a beautiful golden yellow from the summer sun. Everything was happy, but I was in that doctor's office all because of a mole on my neck. All at once nothing made sense. I knew I was stuck in my mind, but I didn't know why. I didn't want to know why. I gasped remembering that I wasn't breathing. I walked up to the window and threw it open. I hung my head outside getting every breath I could.
"Are you okay, Miss?" the doctor rushed to my side. "I know cancer is a hard diagnosis to hear, but you should know it isn't the end of the world. We have counseling."
I felt the clarity rush over me like a wave. I have cancer, again.