An Unwelcome Visitor: A Battle

It was a fine Sunday morning, and I had finally allowed myself the luxury of sleeping in late. No work, no homework — just a rare day to do whatever I pleased. My plans included a leisurely breakfast, some TV, a card game with friends, and a dinner at McDonald’s. Except, of course, the dinner part didn’t happen, and most other things slipped away once I signed up for my new job.

I had put on weight — my t-shirts started revealing more flesh than I liked, and my pants felt tighter every day. But the one thing that kept me going was food. Lots of it. Especially mom’s cooking.

On this quiet morning, as I was sipping my Coke, I heard it — a soft knocking sound. For the first time in my life, discomfort crept over me. I muted the TV and waited silently for the feeling to pass, but it lingered. I reached for my antacid pills, but my hands trembled so much they kept dropping it. I gulped down my Coke as my nerves flared.

Then, the knocking started again — persistent, louder. My heart raced, my mind flooded with questions: Should I call someone? Should I hide? Should I jump out my window? The wild river of thoughts pushed me into a panicked scream that shattered the silence around me.

Suddenly, clarity. I rose with great effort, sweating profusely. I swallowed the tablets the doctor had prescribed and readied my phone. More knocking — louder this time — shook the walls around me. Panic boiled in my throat, and I rushed to the toilet. Just before opening the door, I vomited… it was blood.

I cleaned myself with a towel, barely able to move. The knocking still echoed, a harsh reminder of the fragile life ticking away. Amidst the struggle, the phone finally rang. On the other end was Dr. Wilson shouting for help, but it was too late. I was already gone — a victim of cholesterol buildup, a silent killer lurking beneath the surface.