AN: I don't Naruto. Enjoy.
Prologue
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"Each day's a gift and not a given right."
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At first I just stared. In all honesty, there was nothing else I could really do. This was the most dramatic thing that had ever happened in my life, giving me a chance to cry, to scream or to make a scene and I sat and stared. I stared, straight ahead and I don't know how long. My eyes were dry and because of that they were getting watery.
The nurse offered me a glass of water, but I declined. My body was rejecting this, and I just sat there, frozen. I heard voices but my brain would not connect the voices to people or the sound to words.
I noticed my hands were shaking and I didn't try to stop them. I shook my head to curb the screams of horror that were currently pulsating through my mind.
I look up into the eyes of Dr. Roberts, and I can tell that my eyes are practically begging him to tell me he's joking, just like I want to be right now.
I can feel my heart beating a bit too fast, just as I can feel my skin draining of colour. I'm not sure if this news has just caught up with me or what, but my hands seem to be shaking more violently now.
Maybe I should have the water, this can't be healthy.
I look up at the nurse, and somehow she can tell exactly what I want as she quickly hurries over to the water machine and hands me the glass. I'm surprised I can still hold it as my hands are still shaking.
"Are, are you sure?" I ask quietly, so quietly it was almost a whisper. I half don't want him to hear my question, but I want him too. I want him to laugh and tell me I'm okay, that there's nothing to worry about. But I know he won't, doctors like him don't make that kind of mistake.
I straighten in my chair and look straight at him. I can tell by the look on his face, he's serious. He nods silently, a withdrawn look on his face. I can tell he didn't want to deliver this news to me, Dr. Roberts had been my doctor since my birth, and my family's doctor for several years prior. Looking after someone's health for 23 years can give you a connection.
"So it's definite? There's no way it can be slowed?" I don't slump or let myself lose composure again. My hands have stilled, they don't shake any longer.
"Chemotherapy could slow its process. You could take that route. But it will only lengthen your time for 6 months, most of that will be in recovery. It is your decision, Ino, and yours alone."
I nod slowly. I'll think on it, overnight. I know he knows this. I get up, attempting to hold my balance in my 6-inch heels. I straighten again, and lift my head.
"I'll think on it. I will ring you tomorrow with my verdict. Send the invoice to my apartment." And with that I walk steadily out the door. When I arrive home, I will let myself cry.
I will let myself cry because it isn't everyday you're told you won't live till you are old.
And because it isn't everyday you are diagnosed with a brain tumour.
And because it isn't everyday you are told you have 30 days to live.
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AN: If I get any medical stuff wrong, tell me, I am no expert.
And if it can't kill you that fast, I'm sorry but just humour me so it can fit with the story.
Review?