“Whatever it is, you’ve got this,” she took in a deep breath as her hand hovered just over the pane of glass on the revolving door. Each time she returned, the worry of a foreign illness made her worry over entering Mass General. She always went to start the testing with no fear and struggled to force herself to learn the results a week or so later.

Now or never. With a smirk, she pushed on the glass and stepped inside, following it around.

The cold blast of hospital temperature and the smell of rubbing alcohol slammed into her face. She had never been big on hospital visits, but the physician her company sent them too was a part of the network and worked from one. The door bumped against her back as it closed, but Cassandra could not bring herself to move.

The slight quiver in her body was unmistakable. Starting in her fingertips, nerves moved through her like a current, all the way down to the subtle tapping of her foot into the tile floor. Gentle pressure on the small of her back forced her to take a step, and suddenly, the anxiety ebbed.

Jerking around, she looked to see if anyone had been near, someone whose strength had helped her so she might thank them. None stood beside or behind her by the oversized door. “Maybe I’m going crazy.” Shaking her head, she forced her feet to move. They were no longer heavy as iron weights, holding her against the ground. A calmness took over her, one she’d experienced a few times in the past month. There was never anyone present, yet she’d swear a gentle touch or embrace calmed her down when stressed.

Her last-minute decision to apply for another work position before the year ended was backfiring. Diana had moved quickly, calling her a few short hours later to get the ball rolling. The choice seemed rushed now. Still, she knew she belonged in Cambodia. The pamphlet almost glowed like a beacon on the stack of mail. It had been average looking, same thickness and colors as most, but for some reason, she’d been entirely unable not to flip open the tri-fold and look at the newest possible assignment.

“And now you’re doing the same song and dance as every other time you come for this checkup.”

It was eerily quiet in the hospital, or perhaps she was still in a fog of fear despite the steady way her heartbeat in her chest. Her eyes remained on the floor as she walked, not wishing to look around and see any of the less fortunate around her. The hardest part of her career was seeing the sick children that she could not get help. The countries she visited often had a lack of medical care and sending them to the US for care was next to impossible. Seeing the same unfortunate situations in her city . . . well . . . it did not interest her.

Cassandra paused, finding herself in front of her physician’s door. “Deep breaths. For all you know it’s some parasite you brought back last week. There’s no sign this is something terrible that would keep you from traveling.

Following her advice, she sucked two lungful’s of chemically clean smelling air into her lungs and pushed them out through her mouth before opening the door. As was often the case, the office was relatively empty—only two others sat in the waiting room.

“Miss Marks, so good to see you.” Lucinda, a receptionist she knew well from years of visits, waved as Cassandra approached the desk.

“Good to see you as well.” Cassandra’s smile was genuine. Lucinda was a welcome friend during the boring weights to see Doctor Steinbeck. She filled out the form on the clipboard with scarcely looking down.

“Thank you. You’ll be called back soon.”

Her mouth opened, the words were on the tip of her tongue, ready to dive off, but she couldn’t bring herself to ask for any hints as to what she was about to face. The steadiness held her fear at bay began to rescind, the irregular pounding of fear taking hold once again. Her mouth went dry as she swallowed, attempting to push off her nerves with the breath of air. It proved useless, and as she took a seat the vinyl of the chair, the slickness of sweat on the back of her legs spoke volumes of her worries. Her legs slipped down the fabric like a freaking slip-and-slide.

Come on, Marks. You don’t know what this is. You’ve never been one to get sick, it’s probably nothing. Blowing out a breath she let her head tap into the wall as her eyes closed. A million thoughts ran through her mind, and of course, they all started and stopped with a terrifying new virus some damned mosquito could have given her. She couldn’t count the number of bites she’d gotten the past four months, some of the bites had only just faded since coming home. Contracting an illness from the bloodsuckers was not impossible at all.

Calm down. You feel fine. So you’ve been a little tired, you haven’t even so much as sniffled. Again, she warm fingers seemed to steady Cassandra, this time touching her knee. Opening one eye she looked down, not sure what she’d find, but shocked to see nothing. Maybe they found out a way to tell you’re nuts through blood work. She choked out a laugh, amused, even if she shouldn’t be.

“Miss Marks, the doctor will see you now.”

Startled, she opened both eyes and looked down at her watch. It had only been eight minutes since she’d walked in. Cassandra could count on half a hand the number of times any medical professional had seen her so quickly. Plastering a smile on her lips, she stood and half-shuffled over to the door.

“Right this way please,” the nurse gestured in front of her down the hall. “First door on the left. Doctor Steinbeck will be with you shortly.”

Nodding, Cassandra’s tongue felt six sizes too large for her mouth. Forcing a breath out her nose, she stepped into the familiar office and took a seat. The chair had little cushioning, and she winced as her butt hit onto the support bar under the cushion.

“What to do while I wait?” Scanning over the walls, she found the usual—a diagram of the heart and three posters, each outlining a different general illness. “That’s not going to help.”

She’d read the posters in this particular office half a dozen times in the last two years. Each time she wanted to head out on a new job she needed a consult and blood work. Which never failed to set her nerves on end. Having a second consult had never happened. There’d always been a friendly call or voicemail telling her she was clear for travel. “Except this time.”

Cassandra’s stomach continued to twist and tie into knots. Every attempt to focus on a poster on the wall or listen into a conversation occurring out in the hall fell flat. Because you’re afraid they’re going to give you terrible news.

She never knew her past medical history, her mother hadn’t been kind enough to drop that off at the orphanage; which meant she didn’t know what her own body hid that could one day kill her.

“Miss Marks, thank you for coming in.” Doctor Steinbeck’s gravelly, elderly voice called out as he closed the door behind him and stepped around her to his desk. There was no twinkle of joy in his usually happy green eyes.

Her stomach flipped again, a bout of nausea rolling through her so quickly she couldn’t stave off her gag. Thankfully, nothing else happened.

“I can see you’re already nervous. I apologize for that.” His bushy white brows furrowed together, but he didn’t appear to grab a chart or anything.

Maybe it’s not what you’re thinking. Perhaps they just needed to talk about your upcoming trip and medical concerns.

“I hate giving these talks, and it’s very rare that I find myself in the position to do so, so I’m just going to say this as plainly as I can.” The words sounded gruff coming from the typically friendly man. “I’m afraid you have Breast Cancer.”

Tunnel vision crept up on her, almost knocking her sideways off the chair. The words echoed through her mind as if the doctor had spoken them into a microphone. Over and over the sentence twirled around, sounding like a chorus as her brain processed what she’d heard. The walls seemed to be bowing inward, trapping her in the normally friendly space with nothing but the man who’d uttered the ugliest words she’d ever heard.

Squeezing her eyes shut, the warm trickle of tears cascaded down her cheeks and fell uselessly onto her hands, as they lay crossed in her lap. Her eyes burned as new tears came and fell, but Cassandra refused to open them. Fiery sensations tickled her nose and just under her eyes, daring to her to cry out but not succeeding. Her ears seemed to have plugged, she could hear the doctor asking if she was all right. He sounded far away and inside a cone. The ticking of the clock sounded as mighty as the pounding of hammers, and she violently shook her head, her body thrashing as she did so.

“No!” The word tore out as a scream, a vicious response to the news she’d received. She didn’t dare open her eyes, she didn’t wish to see the blank look in Doctor Steinbeck’s eyes knowing now it represented his attempt at detachment to give terrible information. Her heart pounded so severely she expected it to burst through her chest with each beat. There was no mistaking the way her hands cupped her breasts and squeezed. Cassandra kept at it, searching for anything remotely like a lump. She found nothing. “This can’t be correct.” The words lost the vitriol of her earlier shout, and she opened her eyes, unleashing a flood of tears down her face.

“I’m sorry, Cassandra.” He spoke her first name for the first time in their history. “These blood tests we run for oversea checks are comprehensive. When we saw the marker in the blood work, we had it tested again; a different test. The results are there and the symptoms you described to the nurse last week fit together for a decisive match. There will, of course, be a mammogram to confirm it’s Breast Cancer and not another form. We’ve taken the liberty of scheduling it for you today, in thirty minutes.” The clipped sentences betrayed how uncomfortable Doctor Steinbeck was.

She’d never bothered to know the warning signs of cancer beyond a lump. What were they? How could she not have known? “How?” The word was as breathless as she was. Everything hurt. Every part of her body betrayed her as she swayed in the chair, desperate to stay upright but failing. The words continued to assault her, barraging her like arrows and sending pain through her with every motion.

“I understand this is not an easy situation. I assure you, we have contacted the best oncologist, and together, you will work through a plan. You will beat this, Miss Marks. I have every confidence in you.”

The words meant nothing to her. Her body betrayed her while she’d been striving to help others lead better lives. Could I have noticed? Would it have made a difference? An inhuman scream tore through her mind. She wanted to grab her hair and tug, to shove a stupid framed certification off the shelf next to her, to hit something; anything. She couldn’t. All Cassandra could do was sit in the chair and stare.

“Please come in,” Doctor Steinbeck spoke right past her as if she wasn’t there. “Cassandra, this is Doctor Judy Dresdell, one of the top Oncologists on site.”

Her body shook, and she tried to turn to see who entered, but couldn’t find the strength. Breathing hurt, and the waterfall of tears did not lessen enough for her to see more than an outline of a woman.

“Hello, Miss Marks. I’m sorry to meet under these circumstances.” A kind voice spoke as a woman appeared behind the desk. “Doctor Steinbeck has allowed us to have our consult in his office, as I am certain moving to another location is not in your best interests at the moment.”

Her longtime physician gave a small smile, squeezed her on the shoulder and vanished from her line of sight.

The rise and fall of her chest did not slow but continued aggressively pumping up and down. Cancer. Hearing the word thought in her own voice sent a stab of fear coursing through her. Though her eyes were open, Cassandra could scarcely see the doctor who held her life in her hands through the curtain of tears.

“I know this is difficult to hear. I want you to know, you can take as long as you need to process this, but we do need to move quickly.”

Cancer comes in stages. The thought smacked into her. “How bad is it?”

The woman’s features come into focus for just a moment, and Cassandra saw the way frown lines etched into her chin, and brown eyes filled with compassion.

“I like to do this when you’re in a better frame of mind, but sometimes it helps to process it all together. You have Stage Three Non-Invasive Breast Cancer, though as mentioned, a mammogram will confirm what the blood results told us. What that means is at present, you have to fight. There is a light at the end of the tunnel for you, Miss Marks. We just need to begin your battle.”

Cassandra wished she had some knowledge of cancer, but she didn’t. Death knocked on the door, and if she didn’t pick herself up and do something about it, she was going to answer that knock.

I’m not ready.

Then fight.

The second set of words echoed in her mind, but she was uncertain whose voice she heard speaking them. It wasn’t the voice of her adoptive mother, and it definitely wasn’t her own voice.

Cassandra choked as the stuffiness from minutes of crying blocked the flow of air as she sucked in a deep breath through her nose. Sputtering, she tasted salt from crying on her lips but did nothing to wipe the tears off her mouth. Her breath still came in short bursts, and her heart continued to practically pulsate out of her chest with each beat, but she needed to hear what was being said. Needed to focus on it.

“I want to live.” She looked up through her lashes, drops of tears clouding her vision, but for the first time, she saw the woman before her without falling tears obscuring her sight.

The doctor was barely older than herself with tightly pulled back ebony hair and bright eyes that seemed to shine with hope—a hope Cassandra needed to find for herself.

“That is important. Your mental outlook will play a role in your recovery. I don’t give a damn what anyone else says. Those who want to live are more inclined to beat this.”

Her words were whispered, “I want to beat this.” There was no overwhelming sense of calm overtaking when she committed to kicking cancer’s ass. Her body still shook, her tears still fell slowly down her cheeks, and her breath continued to come in far shallower gulps than was normal.

“Good. Now, I want to talk to you about what can happen, what I want to happen and where we need to go from here.”

Cassandra nodded, and she forced herself to be at the moment, not her thoughts. She wanted to live, and that meant paying attention, not burying her head in the sand and giving into the fear coursing through her veins.

“I think . . . I think I’m ready to listen. The sooner, the better, right?”

The woman nodded. “Absolutely. I’ll go slowly, and we can answer any questions along the way. Do you know anything about Breast Cancer?”

She shook her head and swallowed a wave of panic that she knew nothing about the disease she needed to fight.

“All right then, we’ll start there. I’m going to skip what’s not pertinent to you. Stage III is aggressive, but there is hope. Cancer is the mass duplication of cells so quickly they kill other cells and organs in your body. Your blood came back with the marker CA 15.3; breast or ovarian cancer. The presence of CA 27.9 confirms it is in your breasts. As no other markers were present, we can at this time say that it is noninvasive. Meaning, the cancer has not spread, but as it can, we will be keeping an eye out for this throughout your treatment.”

The information nearly drowned her, but Cassandra somehow followed each word—maybe because her life depended on it.

“Stage III is not a death sentence. We will fight this as vigorously as we can. That means what you’ll accept what we do, and what your body can handle. Unfortunately, we don’t always know those things right at the start.”

“But can I die?”

“May I call you Cassandra?” Doctor Dresdell’s voice was calm, not at all bothered by Cassandra’s interruption, or not showing any annoyance.

“Yes.”

“Cassandra, cancer may take a life at any stage. It is the hard reality of the beast. I want you to know that it is my belief, if we fight this, you will make it out the other side. Could it come back? Sadly. Could you beat it five times and have it reappear a sixth? Yes. My job is to get you to the other side, to get you to remission and help you go about living your life.”

Everything was racing at her, speeding into her like a car on a collision track. Tears threatened to resume falling, and she swallowed hard. “I’m sorry. I think I need a moment.” The words rushed out on an exasperated sigh.

“I understand. While I don’t expect anyone to be ready to discuss this, I do think it’s best if you take some time to gather your thoughts and questions—there will be many I’m sure that you won’t know you have until we get started.”

“Thank you, Doctor Dresdell.”

“Please, we’re going to see a lot of one another, Judy is fine.”

Nodding, she finally took a beat to wipe her hands under her eyes to remove some of the wetness. Judy walked out of the office, carefully closing the door behind her. Cassandra was alone.

“Alone.”

She had no one to help her through this. Yes, there were friends and colleagues, but no family to speak off, and many of her friends were in other countries doing exactly what she did for work. She had no one to hold her when the crying fits came. No one to simply sit with her in the chemo sessions she knew might be a part of her treatment.

Her eyes began to sting as tears started to fill them once more. There would be so much more crying to come—she needed to focus. Cancer wasn’t always a death sentence. Judy has hope, and there’s probably science backing that hope. You can fall apart tomorrow. Just get through this today. Everything can wait. Work can wait.

Damn it. Work. The bitter though brought up another round of sadness

She’d never be cleared to continue her missions. So many children would go without help from her and the program she was attempting to develop. For that matter, she could probably forget getting her program funded entirely.

“Everything I’ve worked for is just gone with one tiny blood test.”

Something happened then. Her tears stopped, and the staggering cold that had weaved through her body was subsiding into anger. “Everything.” She wanted to scream but restrained herself. This was not the time or the place.

“Worry about it all later, damn it. Stop getting in your own way and let Judy get your treatment started.” Clenching her hands into fists, she sniffled twice before standing up. On wobbling legs, she managed to make it to the door and open it. Judy stood outside, her eyes scanning what must have been Cassandra’s chart. “I’m ready. I want to beat this, and that means starting.”

Judy’s eyes warmed, and her smile grew. “Those are the precise words I wanted to hear. Let’s head back in. We’ll get you up to speed on the lifestyle changes you need to make right away.”