When I was a kid everything was simple. All aspects of life that now confuse the hell out of me, were so black and white, like life and death and positive and negative. They have all just blurred into one thing. The scales feel so unbalanced like they could tip over either way in a split second. God, it all used to be so easy. You were born, you lived, you died, but now you're born, you barely lie and you're always dying. Everyday begins to form a routine that allows no variety and you live for no reason other than to die. Each day brings you closer to death with little accomplishement. lLife is just a means to an end. And all I want to know is why?
When I was younger I used to believe in God. I said all my prayers and read about all the miracles but then I realised if there is a God, he doesn't give a shit about me.
I was nine when I started to have the attacks. They weren't often but they were terrifying. Waking up covered in blood is not a fun way to start the day let me tell you. After a year, the attacks became more frequent and I was admitted into the hospital. I remember my mum explaining how the other kids there were all very sick and I had felt so bad for them. At the time I couldn't imagine living like that... until my results came back and I was forced to.
As a ten year old, I didn't know much about the "big C" but I knew it was bad. Really bad. I had never seen my dad cry before-- Ever. And I think that scared me even more. My whole family was breaking down around me and I just couldn't comprehend how to react, so I didn't.
People used to say I was so strong but I wasn't, I wanted it all to go away so badly. I had just been blessed with a new baby brother and I wanted to be like all the other older sisters. I wanted to babysit him, get a job and spoil him rotten, be there when he gets his first girlfriend, but life really had a different idea.
The hostpital became my new home. Ihave my own room with a tv and i have this state of the art laptop which I'm supposed to use for homework but I mostly use it for Netflix. It's not like I'm going to need an education anyway. The cancer ward is full of terminally ill kids. They come and they go, ever changing, never lasting. Some get cured, some die, circle of life my friends. I have gotten to know some of them over the years. There are these two girls, Daisy and Martha. They're around my age, but are way too optimistic for my liking, always encouraging each other to get better with words and prayers. Like that will help! I did have one friend, Rex, we were pretty tight but he bit the dust little over six months ago. We knew it was going to happen but I guess that doesn't make it any easier. I miss having him around to tease Daisy and Martha with, and I miss the way we used to sneal chocolate into our rooms from passing food trollies and sit and watch old movies together until midnight. God, I just miss everything about him really. But that's what I live for these days, eminent death and all that crap. Seeing Rex's family afterwards was one of the worst parts. The way his mum couldn't hold back her tears at his name or how his tough, older brother looked so hollow and unable to go on. I don't want that to be my family. I always encourage them to accept my death but they always disregard any talk of it. I hate that they have to live like this because of me.
My mum or dad visits every single day, and on weekends they come together. Joe, my kid brother, comes with them too unless he has an art class or something. They spend so much of their time here with me. I know that mum has stopped working so she can be around if I need her. I know my dad struggles to earn enough for all of us and my cancer. I know that Joe misses out on so many playdates and parties to visit, and I'm the reason why. I hate myself for it. They deserve a normal life but I'm just holding them back. Everyday is the same, they visit, I sleep, I try to eat, I sleep some more then I do it all over again. I wish it would just end. I wish I could just die!
I wake up and I know that today is a different day. My whole body aches and my skins feels sore and tender with every touch. My mouth is completely dry and blood streams from my nose, as I have become accustomed to. My frail, bone-like fingers struggle to grab a tissue so I call a nurse for help. I greet her with a blood stained smile and she looks on with pity as she washes my face clean. I carefully turn on my laptop and decide to watch my all time favourite movie "The Lion King".
With immpecable timing, my parents arrive in with Joe at the very end of the movie. As the credits appear on my screen I heaar joe run down the corridor. He runs to my side and presents me with his newest creation. A family portrait with so much detail, I have to laugh. He even included my cannula. The kid's got talent. He climbs onto the bed at my side and I slowly ease back into the pillows. The whole family recounts their day to me and then we all fall into a comfortable silence. My father and mother sit curled on the couch in the corner, reading a book together. Joe takes out his sketch pad and begins to doodle. I watch them for a moment, and even though it hasn't crossed my mind to do so in years, I thank God for my family and their support and love.
As I slip into a deep sleep, I let my mind run free and begin to dream. I see Joe at about 30 years old. He still has his freckled cheeks and untidy mop of hair. He stands tall beside the most beautiful woman who looks at him with so much love, it warms my heart. Beside him stand my parents, whose love has stood the test of time by the looks of their every greying hair. In a flash I watch their lifes until they reach this very point. Joe growing up, going to college. He makes a career for himself and finally falls in love. My parents watch on, as he grows into an exceptional young man, with pride. My eyes water and I knkow that even though I never want to leave them, that they will be ok in their lives. I hate that I won't see Jow running in my doorway anymore or that I can't hear his laughter echo down the hall when he's coming to visit. Or that my dad will never kiss my forehead as I fall asleep again. My mum will never again tell me that she is there with me through it all. However, I know that they will get to live their lives and that is enought to give me peace.
I smile as Ilet all thoughts and emothions drift away. My head clears completely and my whole body feels light and free. All noise and light dims until I reach absolute darkness and tranquility. Suddenly all the chains that held me in place are unlocked and I no longer feel the pain. Peace surrounds me as I let go.
Ok so I really hope that brought a tear to your eye because we all know we need a little cry every once in a while. If you made it this far, thank you so much for reading. It's only a little short I was working on but I thought I would share it in the hopes that it would affect people as deeply as it affected me.
Please, please, please comment, criticise and compliment, whichever you're feeling! I will love you forever if I can hear your opinion and reaction.
Love and well wishes
Annabel x
