I can remember the white walls of the hospital and the painful smell of the sanitizer that flooded the hallways. My Grandmother had been diagnosed with Pancreatic cancer 3 months prior to this day. My gran and I had a very close relationship, she was like my second mother. I recall sitting on one of the most uncomfortable and cold metal chairs in the waiting room while we waited to hear what the doctor had to say. The hospital walls and floor were almost too white, the only way to describe it is the kind of white you see in movies about insane asylums. I placed my hands on the iced metal chair I was sitting on which brought my attention to my clammy hands. I did not realize that my hands were so wet I could not feel anything. As I lifted my head, I saw my dad entering the room my gran was in.  My dad is one of four children, and he is the only son so whatever decisions had to be made they were made by him. He has always been seen as the ‘leader’ of my family since my grandfather passed away. When my dad stepped out of the room, I could tell the news was bad as I have never seen him with a sorrowful look. He said my gran was extremely sick and the only thing we could do now was pray. Till this day I can picture my whole family sitting in the waiting room praying for my gran to get better. This was not something new to us especially because I come from a very religious household. I try to shut out all the noises around me by closing my eyes, but it feels as though it is not working because all I can hear is beeping from the hospital machines and the chatter of the doctors and nurses around me. All I wanted was to go to my bed and wake up from this nightmare.