The floor is cold beneath my toes as I breath in the chemical cocktail of city air. Thescent of bleach and antiseptic cling to me like rust on a neglected automobile. I don’twant to be here, but won’t bend and cry. I must be strong and hold my head high, for Iwon’t let this crush me. I must fight.   Fourth floor, second hall, room 23. This is my hell. Today a new treatment toeradicate the disease that kills me. I have advanced fibromyalgia, a heart murmur,bronchial spasms, and arthritis. My nerve damage is all too much. The doctor walks inwith the grim face he always wears. I get blood tests and scans for the next four hours.   My brain feels like slush as highly concentrated blood combined with a newtreatment that stays at a temperature below freezing is shot into my veins. Sure it hurts,but there’s nothing I can do about it. By the time the pain dulls to a thud I am sent forscans.   My mother holds my hand and tells me it will all be OK, but I know better.Sometimes I feel as if I am taking care of her, not vice versa. My mom begins to cry asdye is injected in my spine. I don’t shed a tear, because I can no longer feel the sting ofthe needle.   Once the scans are done I get a break. Chinese sticks to my ribs and leave asalty taste to my mouth as we comb store after store for a jeans in which my babybrother will outgrow within the next three months. I feel like a puppet as my motherguides me from place to place. I don’t even remember every detail of every place. I feelhollow.   The doors open with a whoosh as the bitter cold air bites my skin. I walk back torom 23, my mother holding my hand and saying it’s almost over. As I sit I realize that Ifeel different. I feel as if I will vomit in a moments notice. The doctor walks in and ordersmore tests.   It’s late by the time I am released. All I desire is a good meal and rest, but beforethat wish can be granted I must visit room 23. The room that I have learned to hatethree years ago, the room in which a piece of me died, and now the room that will giveme my life back.   The doctor enters with a grin as big as the cheshire cats. The treatment worked. Iam not cured, but given another chance. This one treatment out of hundreds hasworked. I no longer need experimental prescriptions, and get to do what I never thoughtpossible.   I have a heart and it beats like a drum while I walk on cloud nine and find thatnothing will end till it has to. I am whole and thankful for everything that I am given. Thisis the day that I finally cried. This is the day that I realized I’m alive.