My muscles quiver and my shoulders burn. Just one more crest and then I’ll make it. I’ll make it this time. My breath clouds out in front of me. The wind is relentless. I’ll make it this time. Carefully I stretch my foot out to the next crevice, gritting my teeth and holding my breath as I try to hook my toe——

I’m sliding! I’m falling!

My desperate fingers snag a hand hold. I dangle for a moment before securing myself again. I look around and find myself in the same place I’d climbed past three weeks prior.

My heart sinks.

How could I have slid so far so fast?

How could I have lost so much ground?

Tears of frustration sting my eyes and blur my vision.

It’s all so unfair!

I was so close!

I cling to the side of the unfeeling rock and take several deep breaths to slow my racing mind. The thought of giving up once again crosses my mind.

Why am I doing this?

Why am I trying so hard?

Eventually I’ll have to slide back down into either the same valley I just left or to the other one on the other side. I cannot live on the mountain top forever. I know the statistics and the percentages of making it.

I look down.

The shadows of the valley below me appear deep and dark. I’ve lived among them for almost a year, undergoing painful steps and wishing for the moment I’m in right now.

I look up.

I’m so close.

I’ve come so far.

Even if I lost three weeks, it’s taken me so much longer to get where I am.

I can’t give up now.

Not when I’m so close.

I press my chapped, pale lips together in determination.

I will make it to the top.

I will not give up.

No matter the slip ups.

No matter the hardships.

I can do this, even if I have to start from the bottom again.

Again.

I’ve climbed to the top of other mountains before.

This will be no different——

“Ms. Johnson?”

I look up as the door to the little room opens and the doctor walks back in. He no longer has the grim expression on his face. In fact he appears relieved, almost slumping in his posture. Such a drastic change from the rigid stance he had only and hour prior.

“Yes? Has it …” I shiver and rub at my cold arms.

These medical gowns are always so paper thin and this office is always freezing.

I take a deep breath. “Is it back?

The doctor smiles, his thin lips parting to reveal snowy white teeth.

“There’s been a mistake. Our machine had a smudge on the…never mind it doesn’t matter…what matters is that it’s still gone…the cancer has not returned. You are still in remission.”

I gasp.

The cold suddenly seems to disappear and I feel the warmth of hope shining down through the thick clouds.

I breathe.

I smile.

I made it.

I know at any moment I might slip down the other side, but for right now I’m going to enjoy the view.