I spent two whole days collapsing on the safa, having my eyes glue to TV series “Manifest” and literally felt like dead. It was not just physical, I knew it was more of mental problem---I was, once again, sucked into my old friend Depression.

My husband finally proved that there was something wrong with his body. He might have coronary heart disease, but he needed to have more tests, which means running from this hospital to another. It was like the nightmare all over again.

I didn’t want to see him collapse again, so this time I collapsed first.

It was not fair, I knew. But believe it or not, I didn’t do it on purpose.

For the past six months, I’ve tried my best to fight for my 25% survive rate. I kept my fears in check, held on to faith, and tried my best to keep my life as normal as possible. I’ve tried my best to forget about my disease, however, my husband’s constant signs and complains about being uncomfortable always successfully dragged me back into the reality, or even worse, to a nightmare that we’ve not hit the bottom yet, and there was even worse in store.

Whatever. Two days was the only time I could get. I was not given the option to withdraw, to escape. So I dragged myself out of the bed, and led another busy day.

Life goes on anyway. If you’ve tried really hard, you can be able to smile even in the worst situation, or you can choose to give it up, let your fears to get control.