A Hundred Days By Your Side

By Jandira Kapapelo

Winant is a university student who always held love for a classmate but never managed to catch a break. However, after discovering that her days were numbered, she decided to spend her remaining time trying to obtain his love. Is it possible to conquer a heart that already has an owner?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jandira Kapapelo
• Release date: Dec 27, 2022
• ISBN: 9781802278880

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Copyright © 2022 by Jandira Kapapelo

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publishers.

First paperback edition 2022

Book design by Publishing Push

Paperback 978-1-80227-887-3

eBook 978-1-80227-888-0

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 1

Wake up! We’ll be late for the doctor, my mother screamed.

I hated waking up early during my holidays, but on this day, I had to. My mother said I needed to visit the doctor because I’d felt dizzy, especially with the frigid January weather.

I’m coming, Mom, I said, still tucked under the sheets.

If I need to wait for you to get moving, we won’t get to the doctor til 10 pm. My mother and her sarcasm, I thought.

I’m ready! I yelled, getting up and going straight to the bathroom.

I needed a minute in the shower and didn’t even have time to scrub because I would be late. Seeing me dressed in a masculine fashion, with black trousers, trainers, and a shirt, my mom looked unhappy with my selection.

You’re going dressed like that?

She was dressed in a tight, black skirt with a white blouse, black high heels, and a cream overcoat. She was as beautiful as a woman half her age.

Yes, I answered.

She knew I wouldn’t change my clothes, so she just let it go; I didn’t always dress like that. Only when I wanted to annoy her, and at that moment, I yearned to do so.

My mother’s car was a black Tundra. She has always been obsessed with big cars. We were on the road for 30 minutes, but there was still no sign of our destination, and then I started to feel carsick.

Where is the hospital? I asked her after another 10 minutes.

She didn’t say anything, so I put in my earbuds and started to listen to music. Suddenly, she pulled out one of the buds and informed me we had arrived. Finally, I whispered.

She looked nervous. I’d never seen her that way before. Maybe she thought I was really sick, but that must have been her paranoia. I was fine, and she was exaggerating. She thought there was a risk of going into a coma because of such a simple thing. Along the way, she hadn’t said a single word; even worse, she hadn’t answered any of my questions.

When we arrived, the nurse greeted us, and my mother told me to follow her. We were led into a white room where they could examine me.

The nurse gave me a light blue hospital robe.

Hey, how’re you doing? Can I ask you one thing?

Of course! she answered, smiling.

The woman was nice and pretty. In truth, she looked more like a supermodel than a nurse.

Before I answer your questions, can you change your clothes? she asked.

Of course.

As soon as I put on the robe, she handed me a form. Can you fill this in?

Sure, I told her, the pen shaking in my hand.

Name: Winant Antunes Ferreira

Age: 21

Height: 1.60 m

Weight: 61kg

Blood type: O-

It was a lengthy questionnaire that took me about ten minutes to answer. Are you finished?

Yeah...

Winant? she asked me.

Don’t even ask. I have never asked my mother about the origin of my name. It’s a lovely name.

Thanks.

"It’s a bit different. Winant."

I don’t know anyone else with the same name. Don’t know if that’s good or bad, but I’m used to it.

You can lie down on this bed for a while.

I lay down on a stretcher, which automatically led me into a white machine that covered my entire body. I felt goosebumps form all over my skin, but nothing more severe than that. A blue light illuminated my whole body, lasting no more than five minutes. When I left the machine, the nurse handed me my clothes and turned around, heading for the door.

You said you’d answer some of my questions, I yelled before she could leave the room.

Oh, yes, of course. What do you want to know? she said, turning around.

My mom said it’s just a check-up, but can you tell me what she really wants to know?

It shouldn’t be anything serious. Your mother wants to make sure everything is fine, she said with a smile, which strangely calmed me down.

But do you think it’s serious? For her to bring me to a hospital specializing in cancer... I said nervously, my heart beating faster.

"This is not our only speciality; we have others as well. But it should be nothing.

You don’t need to worry. I bet everything is fine."

We were supposed to get the results in two weeks. I don’t know how, but my mother managed to get it delivered within three hours.

Let’s have something to eat, Winant, she suggested, trying to hide her nerves behind a forced smile.

I didn’t want to make her feel worse by throwing a tantrum. Of course.

We went to the hospital cafeteria, which didn’t have much to offer.

What if you come to live with us? she asked, pouring sugar into her coffee.

What? I asked, pretending I hadn’t heard what she had just told me.

You live in a tiny room with Carla, with no control or protection. I don’t know if you eat well or not, if you have a heater or if you are healthy-

I cut her off.

It’s closer to the university. You can change universities.

Absolutely not! I’m a senior. This is the last year to get my degree, and you want me to change universities? No way! And it’s Coimbra. There’s no better University in Lisbon.

Okay, but at least consider what I’ve said, please.

Why? Do you think there’s something wrong with me? Of course not.

My mother was still agitated, and I could tell something wasn’t right. My heart was beating fast, but I tried to breathe slowly so she wouldn’t notice that I was scared. Fifteen minutes before, I had been at ease, but now because of my mother’s questions, I couldn’t help worrying.

Soon after, the nurse called us. My mother and I went to the doctor’s room. It was about 50 square meters, filled with posters of brains, kidneys, and other organs. At that moment, I understood why my mother had been so nervous. He was a doctor specializing in rare diseases and cancers. The doctor was tall, thin, blond, had blue eyes, and appeared 65 years old at most; he was in good shape for his age.

Hello, Winant. I am Melo Oliveira, and I am…

A doctor for people with cancer?

Yes.

He was supposed to smile and say no, but he said yes. I don’t know why, but I started to sweat. I was tense now. The only things I could even imagine were that maybe I would have to have my breast removed or even have to undergo several transplants to get better. But I felt fine. I sometimes felt strange and had headaches, but they were rare.

It didn’t mean I had cancer.

Did it?

I checked the results, and I have a few questions to ask, he said thoughtfully.

Do you have constant headaches, general malaise, general vomiting, dizziness, and vision issues?

Yes, sometimes.

Before making a final diagnosis, I need to run a few more tests to give you the most accurate diagnosis while we wait for the results to arrive within about fifteen minutes.

Do you think my daughter has cancer? my mother asked.

Of course not, Mom. Don’t even say that! I exclaimed. I was frightened and no longer able to hide my apprehension.

The doctor asked my mom to wait in the hallway while he examined me. I had to sit on a stretcher, and he began evaluating my vision, sensitivity, and muscle strength.

Do you believe I have something like breast cancer? No. Certainly not.

Leukaemia?

Not that either.

Then, what could this be?

You can call your mother inside. I’ll talk to both of you.

I called out to my mother, pacing back and forth in the hallway. As soon as I called her, I saw tears in her eyes. I felt my heart tighten up. Soon after, a nurse entered the doctor’s room, brought the tests, and left.

"Mom, don’t worry too much. Listen to the doctor. He says I don’t have cancer.

He wants to talk to both of us for my final diagnosis."

Of course. Let’s go, my mom said, forcing a smile.

When we entered, the doctor held the tests in his left hand; the papers reflected the gleam from his watch and gold ring. My hands trembled. I was even more nervous after seeing my mother crying.

I still have to do some other tests to be certain, and there’s a chance it’s not...

He was trying to placate us, but I noticed that the more he talked us down, the jumpier my mother became. She seemed to know it already. Maybe I was the only one in that room who didn’t know what I had.

Can you please tell us the diagnosis? I asked him.

Okay, I’ll do that. Of course. We found neoplasia in the brain tissue, increasing the intracranial pressure at a very high rate.

I didn’t understand much of what he said, but he was talking about my brain, so it must have been something serious. My legs started to shake.

And how can I cure that, Doctor? Do I have to do surgery or have a transplant? I asked him, distressed.

The doctor sighed and straightened his glasses:

Nowadays, several treatments are available, but I don’t think we can use the standard approaches for this tumour. It is very evolved, and, besides...

It’s the same as my husband’s, isn’t it, Doctor?

What? Dad died from a tumour?

That’s right, said my mother, wiping away the tears that blurred all her makeup.

That was it.

I had a tumour, which was inoperable.

I could die.

The treatments might not work; it was already quite advanced. The doctor advised me to stay in the hospital for a thorough follow-up.

You never told me… Why is that, Mom?

It is very difficult to cure. Your father died after five months, and it seems that this damned disease is also hereditary. How could I tell you?

Does that mean I’ll die in five months?

In your case, you may have some more time, so you must stay in the hospital, said the doctor.

If I stay here, do you think I’ll live? I asked him, looking him in the eye, but I realized then that even he had little hope.

This isn’t something I can guarantee... he said, crestfallen.

Let’s go, Mom. I need to get out of here.

Wait, she said.

I got up without checking to see if she was following me. I needed to escape this room. My eyes shed tears, and my heart ached like never before. How could a 21-year-old die like this? I’d never killed anyone. I’d never hurt anyone. I’d gone to church, so why would that happen to me?

On our way home, my mother continued to weep. We had to return by taxi because I had no license, and if my mother had gotten behind the wheel in that state, we could have ended up in an accident. I didn’t know if I should comfort my mother or fall deeper into despair because I was also despondent as much as I felt sorry for her. All my plans would go down the drain: I would never be a lawyer, I would never get married, I would never finish college, and I would never have my own family. And what scared me the