“I’m sorry, I’m what?” I asked the doctor perplexed, I had just found out I had lost my unborn baby, a child that I will never get to know and now I was being told about another loss, the loss of my legs. “I’m sorry ma’am your husband…” I didn’t even give him a chance to finish, I asked him to leave I needed to be alone I needed to process the whole thing in my head by myself with myself and no one else, I didn’t want the doctor explaining what was broken and how it was impossible for that to heal and how I would never be able to walk again. I didn’t need that negativity in my life, I was already living in hell I didn’t want to be reminded or told how bad things were and how worse they were about to get. Doctors are the best people to kill people’s hopes and dreams, they can tell you that you have three months to live and because they went to school and studied for donkey years we are so quick to believe everything that they say, forgetting that they are not the ones that gave you life so how do they then decided or determine how long you are going to live? I knew of this white man I had worked with a few years ago, because white people love going to doctors and doing all sorts of tests, this man a strong and fit man who worked out daily went to have those crazy tests done. A few weeks later he was called back to the doctor’s office and told that the results came out looking bad and he has three months to leave live. They’d found some cancer and it was too late for any treatment, the second he left the doctor’s office he was already feeling sick, in three weeks he had lost nine kilos and in a month he couldn’t even walk a month before his so called death the doctor went to go see him at his home to apologize they had mixed up the blood samples and there was nothing wrong with him.