when i hit zero

The air was damp and warm on that early September night. I had been with all of my friends that day except him. I got a phone call from my hematology-oncologist earlier in the evening, trying to come up with a treatment plan. My levels were low, once again.
“I’m so sorry it’s like this. You’re in control now. When do you want to be treated? It’s up to you, it’s in your hands. You’ve got this entire office behind you. Do you want to stop entirely?”
I didn’t know what to do. I settled for lab work in the morning and a phone call later on. What I knew, was I wanted to continue the good day I’d had. I was with my friends, all but him. I didn’t want to bother him, you never know what someone else is going through. At the end of the night, I cried to my other friend. I was with everyone, but I could only think about him.
“What do I do?”
We were both feeling fear. Sadness. Frustration.
Now I sit in the hospital parking lot at two in the morning with him. Neither of us really say anything.
Knowing that even the doctors don’t know what to do is terrifying, and there’s nothing anyone can say to make it less scary.
All we knew was that the only thing my doctor and everyone in that office could do, is work to predict God as best as they can.