Today, I meet with the doc for my operation. I'm currently in the waiting room, waiting. Because that's what the room is for. 

"Keith Williams?" 

I roll my wheelchair over to the door and enter the room.

>> Fast-forwarding through boring blah-dee-blah... >>

"Thank you, sir. I'll see you next week for the operation," I say on my way out. I roll towards the elevator and take it back down to the first floor. I exit the building and see David outside the bui.ding in his car.

"So?" he says. "How'd it go?"

"He'll do it. Operation's in a week." 

"Great! Now, let's get you home. You got six days until you gotta stay in the hospital." 

I hop in the back of his car after he lifts me in and puts my wheelchair in the back. He takes me home, and I sit on the couch and watch Netflix.

>> Fast-forward past the operation... >>

"I'm sorry, sir. We tried everything. There simply is no treating you."

"No. No, no, no. You said you could," I plead.

"We didn't know how severe it was." The surgeon points to an X-ray of my lower spine on a board.

"The base of your spine has no connection to you legs whatsoever. You won't ever walk again, I'm afraid. I'm sorry."

I cover my eyes with my hands.

I roll out of the room and go back outside. David takes me home and I sit on the couch, tears overwhelming my eyes. I'll never walk again.