30th March 2011
“Al-Batari.”
Dr Jayaraman looked serious. Yazid felt sick as he rose from the hard hospital chair and walked into her office. Ali squeezed his elbow as they sat. The faint strain in his voice as he asked for the news told Yazid that he’d noticed the sombre expression as well.
And Dr Jayaraman was not a woman to beat around the bush. “It’s leukaemia.”
L—what? What?
“What?” Ali whispered at his elbow.
Yazid blinked as the room tilted for a sharp second. There was a roaring in his ears. Leukaemia. Leukaemia. He had cancer?
“I’ve sent your samples up to oncology for further testing and I will be consulting with Dr Williams this afternoon to start a treatment plan for you,” she said briskly. “But the lab were quite adamant that was what they found.”
“I have cancer,” Yazi
