I didn’t sleep much that night.
Every time I closed my eyes, my mind started asking the same questions again and again. What if something goes wrong? What if I don’t wake up? What if I wake up… but I’m not the same person anymore?
The room was quiet, but inside me, everything felt loud.
Around midnight, I heard a soft sound. The door opened slowly, and my mom walked in again. She thought I was asleep, but I wasn’t. She sat down next to me and gently touched my hand.
“I know you’re awake,” she whispered.
I turned my head and looked at her. Her eyes were red again.
“I didn’t want to wake you,” I said.
“You didn’t,” she replied softly. “I couldn’t sleep either.”
For a moment, we didn’t say anything. We just sat there, holding hands. It felt like when I was a child… when I was scared of the dark, and she would stay with me until I felt safe again.
“I’m scared, Mom,” I finally said.
My voice was weak, and I hated that she could hear it. I always tried to be strong for her. But tonight… I couldn’t pretend anymore.
She squeezed my hand tighter.
“I know,” she said. “It’s okay to be scared.”
Tears started to fall from my eyes, and I couldn’t stop them.
“What if something happens to me?” I asked. “What if I don’t come back?”
She shook her head quickly, like she didn’t want to hear those words.
“Don’t say that,” she whispered. “You will come back. You have to.”
“But what if I don’t?” I said again, my voice breaking.
She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she leaned closer and placed her forehead gently against mine.
“Then I will still be proud of you,” she said quietly. “Because you are fighting. And that is enough for me.”
Her words hurt… but also comforted me at the same time.
A few minutes later, my dad came in too. He looked surprised to see us both awake, but he didn’t say anything at first. He just walked closer and stood beside the bed.
“I guess no one is sleeping tonight,” he said with a small smile.
I tried to smile back, but it was hard.
He looked at me for a long moment, then took a deep breath.
“You know,” he said, “when you were little, you fell off your bike and broke your arm.”
I nodded slowly. I remembered that day.
“You cried a lot,” he continued. “You said you didn’t want to go to the hospital. You were so scared.”
I looked at him, wondering why he was telling me this.
“But you went anyway,” he said. “And when it was over, you told me… ‘It wasn’t as bad as I thought.’”
He paused, then looked straight into my eyes.
“Maybe this will be the same.”
I wanted to believe him. I really did.
But this felt different. This felt bigger.
“I don’t feel that brave right now,” I admitted.
He smiled softly.
“You don’t have to feel brave,” he said. “You just have to go through it.”
That stayed in my mind.
I don’t have to feel brave… I just have to go through it.
The night slowly passed. The sky outside the window started to turn light blue. Morning was coming, whether I was ready or not.
A nurse came in and told me it was time.
Everything suddenly felt real.
My heart started beating fast. My hands felt cold.
My mom held my left hand. My dad held my right.
“I love you,” my mom said, her voice shaking.
“I love you too,” I replied.
My dad looked at me, trying to stay strong.
“See you after,” he said.
I nodded, but inside… I wasn’t sure.
As they started to move my bed toward the door, I looked back at them one last time.
They were standing there, side by side, trying to smile through their fear.
And in that moment, I realized something.
No matter what happens to me… I am not alone.
As the doors to the operating room opened, I took a deep breath.
This is it.
This is the moment that will change everything.
But before they put the mask on me, one last thought crossed my mind…
What if I wake up…
and the first thing I see… is not my family?