50 Thoughts That Scare Me (Rewrite)

Chapter 8- A Cure To Numb The Pain

I was never one to dwell on something, before the cancer, but everything has changed. I get more opportunities to be locked inside my mind with my thoughts. Being a cancer patient does not have its perks, you see. No one wants pity, or to face death on a daily basis. But, maybe I do. Maybe I want to face death itself.

I was in the hospital, that isn't unusual for a cancer patient. Since I'm diagnosed with leukemia, I have to tip-toe on life, be weary of making marks. One fuck up could lead to my headstone accompanied by a hearse. Even though I made multiple trips here, I was still freaking terrified of hospitals. They smelled disgusting, the sounds and the vibe was creepy as hell, and I think I have seen way too many hospital themed horror movies. 

I was running a high fever, I felt nauseous and dizzy, I hadn't taken my pills before being admitted to the hospital, and here I was, room 226. My mom was sitting in the chair next to my bed, reading some book. I would glance at her every so often and pick up the worried vibe she put off. Her reading glasses were perched on the bridge of her nose, her knuckles were white from clenching the book in her hands so tight. I was beginning to feel severely nauseous, I looked around the room trying to ignore the streams of sweat that began to trickle down my forehead. Then, I turned and barfed right in the bucket next to my bedside.

My moms eyes tore away from the words in her book to my horrid sight. "Aw, my poor baby." She frowned and ran her long and aging fingers through my slick hair.

Even though I felt like shit, I managed to crack a smile at her. Even though I didn't freaking feel like smiling, I still did. I wanted to reassure her, I had turned her life into shit. She was so happy before I was strucken by the diagnosis. She would make breakfast, lunch, and dinner with a smile on her face. Now, she was on edge 24/7.

I watched as my mom slowly returned to her reading and I drifted off into my lonely mind. I guess I was scared of the life my mom would have after I die. All she does is look after me and work. I felt terrible, sometimes I even kept her from holding a decent job. We didn't have much of an income, the insurance didn't cover all the costs of my cancerous life. My mom paid for a lot, and most of the time money was tight and we wound up broke. Because of me.

As I looked to my left I saw the liquified medicine being dripped slowly through the IV Pump, tracking every drip I took in. I started to count them. Drip. One. Drip. Two. Drip. Three. Drip. Four. Drip-

"Is it working?" The nurse asked softly as she entered the room. "Hmm?" I hummed at her, requesting her to specify. "The pain killer," she nodded to the IV Pump.

I hadn't been paying much attention, really. Come to think of it, I felt as high as a god damned airplane. I didn't feel any pain and I hadn't thrown up in several minutes. However, I kept watching the IV Pump. This was different from taking pills, you didn't have to feel the harsh scratching sensation in your throat or taste that god awful coating that the pill was doused in. Even "flavorless" pills had their fair share of barftastic tastes. This though, it was just like a new sting in the arm and I was familiar with this. Chemotherapy was similar and I guess I was just used to tubes being strewn over me endlessly. How could one not be used to it? For so many years, this has been my life.

"I've been thinking," I stared at the tubes connected to my body as I talked, "I wanna go back to school." My eyes glanced over at my mom's. I imagined that my eyes looked glazed over and red, like I smoked some weed, because that is how I felt at the moment. Of course, though, I could probably, somehow, get medical marijuana. Not like I want the shit..

"Are you sure?" She raised an eyebrow at me, I haven't been cyberschooling long, and she would probably have to refill out some paperwork.

"Yeah, I'm sure."

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Right before I was diagnosed on my birthday, I remember dad and I would look through this old shitty telescope in the backyard, staring at the stars for hours. Mom would be humming or singing along to some song that happened to be on the radio as she baked, her apron would be smothered in flour.

I was a normal, healthy, young boy who knew no different from love, lonely, or lust. I was sleep-walking through life, mainly taking everything for granted. And I did, I took my parents' marriage for granted, I took the few friends I managed to have for granted, and while everyone moved onto High School, I moved into various Hospital rooms.

I felt deprived of a childhood, and I didn't know what I would be when I grew up when I was so young and fragile. Now I do, as an older, more fragile fuck up. What I want to be when I grow up? IF I grow up? I would like to be happy. The reality of what will happen in my future? I'll be buried under the cold hard ground.

I'm not too far off, my spirit has already died and vanished, now I just need the vessel, my broken shell, my body, to die with it. Only if my lungs would collapse and keep me from breathing, then I would truly be dead.

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Just like any movie from the 90's, I threw a baseball up at the ceiling and continued to do so after I caught it. I don't even know where I received the baseball, I don't even like baseball.

I looked around my room, a routine I had gotten pretty used to . "I need a fucking life," I mumbled to myself.

My mom was busy, talking to the public school about re-enrolling me, and I was upstairs being bored as fuck.

I got up, a new thought popping into my brain, and pulled some old battered converse onto my feet. I made my way down the stairs and searched for my mom, who was still on the phone. "Hey, I'll be back later. I wanna go somewhere." I informed my mother, throwing my wallet and cellphone in my pocket.

"Alright sweetie, be back soon." She said, anther routine I had to live with. She was always worried when I decided to go around town by myself. She thought I would get mugged, beaten, raped, or collapse from some cancertastic accident.

I looked up at this huge tree I found surrounded by nothing but meadow. My nerves were automatically calmed and I breathed a sigh of relief. I continued to climb the tree to the highest branch I would dare to reach. I perched myself on top and watched as the sky turned pink mixed with dark blue signalling night. I could see the stars making their bright appearances, and I wished I could be as bright as them. My eyes held nothing but dull colors and empty dreams. I just wanted a cure to numb all the physical and emotional pain I had endured. 

"Hello?" I heard someone call out from the ground below. I looked down in confusion, this place seemed so secluded. I guess I wasn't the only one longing for a beautiful view and escape. 

"Hi." I said faintly, my voice just loud enough for the person below to hear my response. 

"Uh, you're on private property." I watched as the boy, who I could barely see, shifted awkwardly. 

I climbed down quickly, feeling stupid and embarrassed. "I am so sorry, I didn't know, I promise I'll leave, you won't see me again." I said in a rush as my back was faced towards the stranger as I climbed down. 

"You like the view?" He asked. 

"Yeah, it's beautiful." I responded. 

"You can stay, I don't mind." 

"Oh, thanks... Uh what's your name?" My feet had hit solid ground and I finally turned towards the stranger to see his face. He didn't have to respond, I already knew. "I'm Gerard Way."

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50 Thoughts That Scare Me, Frank Iero (CancerBoy) -

1. I'm scared of routines.

2. I'm scared of the pills/ drugs.

3. I'm scared of everything- anxiety.

4. I'm scared of myself.

5. I'm scared of hospitals.