As usual, it was Wednesday, and Maria was on her lunch break. She sat at her desk, the office unusually quiet, with most of her colleagues either out to lunch or engrossed in their tasks. This was the one time in the week where she could freely talk to her friend, Eva, without distractions. Today, however, the conversation was far from ordinary.
Maria had called Eva for their weekly chat. They’d been friends since childhood, always there for each other. But today, Maria’s voice was different, shaky, heavy with an emotional weight. Eva sensed it instantly.
“Eva, I…I have something to tell you,” Maria started, wiping her eyes with a tissue she clutched in her hand. “I just got back from the doctor. My mammogram and ultrasound came back... I have breast cancer.” Her voice broke on the last two words.
Eva was stunned. For a moment, she didn’t know how to respond. She could see Maria on her screen, the familiar face she had known for decades now tear-streaked, her lips trembling. But the words didn’t come easily.
On the other side of the screen, Maria continued, her voice barely holding together. “I don’t know what stage it is yet. They’ve ordered more tests, but…” She trailed off, unable to finish the sentence, and instead looked down, clutching the tissue harder.
Eva's mind began racing. Her shock was not only for Maria, but also for herself. She hadn't had a mammogram in years. She had always found some excuse to avoid it — too busy at work, family commitments, the inconvenience of it all. But really, she had been scared. Scared of the unknown, scared of the potential bad news, scared of confronting her own vulnerability. And now, here was Maria, who had done everything right — regular check-ups, early detection — and yet, she was facing the nightmare that Eva had been trying so hard to avoid.
(c) verbaska - Stock Image PIXTA -
The guilt hit Eva like a wave. Her friend was in pain, and all she could think about was herself. But wasn’t that how people were? Self-preservation, fear of facing the darker parts of life?
“I’m so sorry, Maria…” Eva finally whispered, her voice trembling as much as Maria’s. “I…I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything. I just needed to tell you. I’m scared too.” Maria's hands, still clutching the tissue, shook as she brought them to her face. “But I’m glad I caught it early. I’m lucky in that way, I guess.”
Eva watched her friend, her heart heavy with a mix of emotions. She knew she should be offering words of comfort, saying something encouraging, but the fear in her own heart wouldn’t let her speak. Maria’s diagnosis had forced her to confront the fact that she, too, could be at risk. She had neglected her health, and now that negligence felt like a ticking time bomb.
“I… I’ve been putting off my mammograms,” Eva finally admitted, her voice barely audible. She felt ashamed to say it, especially now, knowing that Maria had done everything right. “I was scared.”
Maria, despite her own situation, looked up at the screen, her face softening a little. “Eva, you have to go. Please. Don’t wait. It’s not worth it.”
“I will,” Eva promised, though the words felt hollow. She wanted to believe that she would make the appointment, but the fear still gnawed at her. It was a fear that, until now, she hadn’t realized was so deep.
They sat in silence for a moment, both of them lost in their thoughts. Maria wiped her tears, trying to regain some composure. “It’s weird, you know? You always think these things happen to someone else. But then one day, it’s you.”
Eva nodded. She had always thought the same. But now, she couldn’t help but think that maybe her time was coming too, that maybe avoiding the test would only delay the inevitable. The uncertainty was suffocating.
“I’ll be there for you, Maria,” Eva finally said, her voice more steady now. “Whatever happens, you’re not alone.”
Maria smiled faintly through her tears. “I know. Thank you.”
They talked for a little while longer, the conversation shifting to more mundane topics. But the weight of the news lingered. As they said their goodbyes, Eva sat staring at her computer screen long after Maria had signed off. She was overwhelmed, not only by concern for her friend but also by the realization of her own mortality.
Eva picked up her phone and dialed the number for her doctor’s office. She was scared, but she knew what she had to do. She couldn’t put it off any longer.
As she listened to the automated message and waited to speak to someone, Eva thought about Maria and the strength it must have taken to face her diagnosis. She hoped she could find even a fraction of that strength within herself.
When someone finally answered the phone, Eva cleared her throat. “I’d like to schedule a mammogram, please.”