Me, Me, Me

Every tick of the clock is eternal. How long before I hear from the doctor the prognosis? How long do I have to live?

Stop!

No one said anything about dying. You don’t even know if you have cancer. For all you know it could just be a swollen prostate. Every man has one past their forties. The doctor was just letting you know the possibilities. He said he would know more after the analysis.

Blah, blah, blah! Who cares about your stupid grandchildren let the doctor go so that he can move on to the rest of us!

″--Smith?”