On You Only Live Once

contributed by Bernica Marquez

“Hi. I’m hoping to get the lab results for my biopsy?”

The girl behind the counter politely acknowledged my request, and verified my personal details. She then sifted through her files and reached for a neatly-folded, unassuming white piece of paper. It looked like the letters of admission (or rejection) that universities gave out; only this time, it showed the surgical department letterhead and my name tagged as “Patient” on the front. She hesitated before handing it to me, opting to enclose it in an envelope so I would have a few more seconds before I found out if I had indeed tested positive for colon cancer.

There was no surreal moment when the past 25 years of my life flashbacked in slow motion. There were no regretful cascades of tears on failing to kiss my mom and dad before I drove off to work that day, on missing the last four barkada dinners, on bitterly laboring the past thirteen hours computing budget variances, on not setting foot in Harry Potter World, on missing my chance to say “I do” and raising miniature copies of the man I love. I’m quite ashamed to admit that there was not even a prayerful pause, a last bargain with the world to change what could be the mortal judgment I held in my hands.

For in that moment when you are confronted with the reality that your existence may have reached its limits, there is only swiftness. Whether it’s an unexpected attack, a drop in blood pressure, a speeding bullet, an alarming crash or a blinding light, there is often no luxury of a redefining moment that would change the course of mortal fate. There is only a seemingly deceiving, pure halt of time in the single second when the gavel pounds to conclude the verdict.

As my eyes quickly darted to the word “benign”, I thanked my God and carefully folded the letter back in the exact corners it was handed to me. I smiled over this sweet victory, as I had come back to the reality where I again had each day for a hopefully long, proper, unapologetic goodbye.