A Fresh Start

A short story about a woman finding out some unexpected results...


1. Lily Peterson

I stood outside the door as my husband parked the car across the way, and I stared at that horrible sign in fear.




It mocked me.


It taunted me.


What if it didn’t work?” I thought, “What, after all that, should I blinking well do if it didn’t work?”

I started to panic. I started to think what would happen to us, me, us, if it didn’t work. How would I react? What next? What could we do?

“Ready dear?” My husband Carl came behind me and hugged me.

“Yeah…” I sighed, “But what if it didn’t work?”

“Well then…we’ll just take it as it comes. We’ll do our best” he replied

I nodded and we walked through the entrance.


We walked slowly, hand in hand, towards clinic 5, knowing that the results will determine the next course of action. A fresh start? Or something else?


We managed to get to clinic 5 with a little time to spare. Carl gave my name to the receptionist as I sat down near a young girl, poor thing. She shouldn’t be in clinic 5. It’s the worst place to be.

“You done with that?” I asked her as she was putting down a magazine.

“Yeah…sure” she replied, handing it to me.

Just as Carl sat next to me, a woman, who seemed to be the girls’ mother, sat down talking to the girl.


“Mrs. Peterson” A nurse called, and I stood up.

I grabbed Carl’s hand as we walked together to hear my fate.


“Ah….Mr. and Mrs. Peterson” a young female doctor smiled, “Please…have a seat”

I looked at Carl and sat down next to him in a blue chair, right next to the doctor’s desk.

“Right Mrs. Peterson,” she smiled, “I just want to make sure of a few details, if that’s alright with you…”

I nodded.

“So, you’re Mrs. Lily Peterson, aged 41?” As she asked, I nodded, waiting for answers. “And you have had the lung cancer for how long?”

“About a year…” I hesitated.

“Can I just check your scar tissue? To make sure there’s no infection.” She quizzed.


I sighed and nodded. I lifted up my top, to reveal my scar, my reminder.


She checked it and told me that I could put it back down.

“Right, well as you know, the chemotherapy worked quite well at shrinking the tumour, so we just needed for you to have the surgery to just get rid of the last bit…” she started looking at her computer and clicking at things.


I tightened my grip in Carl’s hand, and held my breath.


Those few seconds of silence, waiting for answers, seemed to last a lifetime.


“Well, Mrs. Peterson…” She started.

Oh for goodness sake!” I thought, “Just say it already!

“It looks like you’re in the clear…” She smiled.


I just stared, open-mouthed.


“What?” Carl asked.

“You are now officially in remission…Congratulations!” She grinned.


Carl let out a huge sigh of relief, “Thank God!”


I just cried.


It was the happiest day of my life.


Time for that fresh start.









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