When Did It Go Wrong?

As I approached the end of my second year at school, anticipation for the upcoming summer vacation was building within me. However, there was one last hurdle that stood in my way - the final day of exams. Despite the stress and pressure, I couldn't help but feel excited for the last module, which was taught by one of my favourite professors and focused on some of the most intriguing topics I had ever studied.

As the exam drew closer, I couldn't help but feel a tinge of unease, as I had not devoted enough time to studying for

the module. It was a general knowledge and intellectual course, and I couldn't shake off the feeling that I was unprepared for it. Nevertheless, the excitement of finishing my fourth semester at the institution was palpable, and I was determined to give the exam my best shot.

That Wednesday evening, however, my focus shifted from the exam to something far more pressing - the results of the tests I had taken a week earlier on my testicles. Countless sleepless nights were spent fretting over the possibility of having a disease or suffering from an injury that I was unaware of. The anxiety had consumed me entirely, and I couldn't wait any longer to receive the test results.

Fatigue had set in, and I wasn't sure if I could muster the strength to visit the lab and retrieve my results. As a result,

I requested that they be sent to me via email, a decision that only added to my mounting anxiety. With each passing moment, the wait became unbearable, and I could feel my nerves fraying at the edges.

I sat in my room, anxiously awaiting the results of my tests, feeling as though I was waiting for the most important day of my life. My heart raced with anticipation as I checked my email, hoping for a negative result. I sprang from my seat and hurried over to my laptop as soon as I heard the notification sound.

As I scanned the results, my eyes quickly darting across the screen, I realized that I didn't need anyone's help this time around. I was well-versed in interpreting test results, and the news was clear to me. There was no need for my cousin or anyone else to confirm what I already knew.

With my hands trembling and my heart racing, I stared blankly at the test results that lay before me. The words "Seminoma Positive" jumped off the page, stark against a sea of negative results. I had no idea what Seminoma was, so I immediately turned to the one source I knew could help me - Google. With shaky fingers, I typed in the words and hit the search button, praying that it was just a simple bruise or infection that could be easily treated.

Reading the articles, my heart sank deeper and deeper into my chest. I discovered that Seminoma was a type of cancer that originated from germ cells in the testes. I had no idea what this meant, and my mind began to race with thoughts of the worst-case scenario. All I knew about Seminoma was that people with this type of cancer might lose some of their hair.

Despite my growing fears, I tried to push my thoughts aside and focus on the task at hand. I had my final exam the next day, and I needed to be focused and alert. Maybe this was all just a mistake, I thought to myself. Perhaps I was overreacting.

With a heavy heart, I closed my laptop and decided to try to get some sleep. I knew that I needed to go to the lab and get some answers, but for now, I needed to try and get some rest. I hoped and prayed that this was all just a false alarm and that everything would turn out to be okay in the end.