It is so fragile this life.

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Two weeks ago my doctor looked at my scan and just said: ‘It looks perfect’. Never before I thought that these three simple words could elicit so much positive emotions. It was for sure one of my most beautiful days of my life. In the last seven months I was literally fighting for my life. Enduring pain and exercising patience. Fearing the worst and hoping for the best. I was going through an existential moment and learned how fragile life is. At least I thought so. Until last week when I experienced one of the most shocking moments of my life.

I went to the pool for a swim. Because there were so many people in the water I stopped after a while going to the side to enjoy a calm moment. This calmness suddenly got brocken by somebody screaming: There is somebody drowning! The scared tone in her voice was cutting the jaunty atmosphere. The shock in her face was chilling. One instance later I was in the middle of the pool holding a warm but lifeless body of a teenage boy in my arms. When we pulled him out of the water his head was frightening loose, falling from one side to the other like the head of broken doll. The life guards directly started to reanimate him. I remained shocked in the water.

So here I was. Getting my life back, when this poor boy just seemed to loose his. Me sweating out the toxic chemicals from my treatment, he vomiting out the clean water in his lungs. Me finishing half a year of worries, he ripped out of a carefree afternoon. It was shocking.

After some moments I had to leave the scene. The fact that he had to vomit was making me hopeful. But that they had to continue with the reanimation was not a good sign. I don’t know if he made it. I deeply hope so.

Since last week there was not passing one day that I was not thinking of him. Thinking of him and how fragile life is. It is so fragile, this life.

Martin Inderbitzin