One Last Time

Chapter 1

Just putting it out there, there is mild language in this story
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It was another day in the hospital. My mom had brought me here about 4 months ago when I started to loose vision in my right eye.

As my mom was carrying me into one of the rooms of the pale walled hospital, I could hear my brother and half sister running behind us asking if I was going to be ok and if I was going to die. It's hard to think of things that way, you know like death.

I never considered death this huge thing. I mean yes, it's a traumatic and upsetting thing but I mean, think of it this way.

Your sick. No, your dying. You feel no pain as the sickness you have consumes over half of your body, while the other half fights off the killing disease as much as possible. You feel no pain even though the process sounds painful.

You die sick, but not in pain. That's the way I see it. It's better to die not in pain, than to die suffering from a traumatic injury. It's a peaceful death at best.

My name is Skylar Peterson, and I am dying of cancer. I'm a fighter though. I refuse to lose my battle to cancer because that's the biggest fight anyone has to go against. Others have lost, but I feel like I have a real chance to kick this opponents ass.

That's another thing I see weirdly. People see cancer as this disease that your body has to fight, or it doesn't survive. I see cancer as this big wrestler. Im in the ring with this huge guy and he's already defeated a ton of other components. I have to stay in the ring with this guy till he's down on the ground, tapping out.

No matter how long it takes, I will put this guy on the ground. I will not lose this match.

As I was being pulled out of my mothers hands, I snapped out of my thoughts. I just remembered that I'm at the hospital. I go really deep into thoughts once in a while.

I look up at who is carrying me and notice it is a woman who looks to be in her mid 30's. She must be one of the nurses or maybe one of the doctors.

As she brought me to my room and set me down on my hospital bed, I started to feel very weak again. It's hard to walk and do simple tasks anymore because of all the therapy I'm seeking.

That's what makes you the weakest you know. Not the cancer, well I mean the cancer helps but the therapy is the worst. It helps you get better yes but it sure does knock the hell out of your energy.

I sat there staring at the walls around me. They were a light shade of pink, almost a peach color. They were so plain and simple. This whole hospital is plain and simple.

It's depressing I mean come on guys, if were dying and have to spend our last few moment in this god damn place, why not make it look a little happier.

I looked to my left and saw my phone. I grabbed it and saw that I had a text message from my dad saying, "get well soon kiddo. Love you xoxo".

That's my dad for you. He wants to be there for you but there is always something happening that is more important.

I guess there's something more important than your daughter dying.