I had ten hours left. I was fourteen years old and certain of this as if it were a known fact. The following morning, they would wheel me into the operating room, cut me open, and in the process, they would kill me.
The day started out like any other day. I was in college at the time, so I got up out of bed and went to class. At noon I met my mom and grandmother for lunch at a local restaurant, feeling well. We talked and laughed and ate way too much off the buffet. The first inclination I got of what the evening would hold came as we were walking to our vehicles from the restaurant. I felt very sick.
