Living in Melbourne, Australia, Kennedy Johnson grew up with the constant fear of dying after being diagnosed with cancer when she was only six years old. At the age of fifteen, test results confirm that she no longer has brain cancer, and would be...
Hey, my name is Kennedy Johnson and I'm a healthy 5'8 blonde-haired, blue-eyed 15 year old high-school student with the best group of friends anyone could ask for.
I wish. Let me rephrase that.
Hey, my name is Kennedy Johnson and I'm a skinny 5'3 bald, green-eyed 15 year old that lives in a hospital and has no friends.
I'm a freak.
I was diagnosed with brain cancer when I was six. My mum cried herself to sleep every night. She never knew I heard her from my room, but I did. I wouldn't fall alseep till she stopped crying, or till Dad stopped reassuring her that everything would be alright.
They almost lost faith in me living. Almost.
Now I'm 15 and haven't been to school since I was six. I've spent the five days this week at the hospital, cooped up in my room with nothing but a TV and a constant flow of flowers, letters, and visitors. I got moved out of the children's hospital last year, so most the other kids are gone, I don't get to see them very often. A few of them have died, anyway. I'm not sure why I'm still here though; I was the sickest of us all.
Next week I'm going in for my final test. I haven't felt ill, faint or sick at all lately and the doctors think it might have finally gone. Left my body once and for all.
Right now, I'm just waiting. Waiting for that day to hurry up and come. Waiting to know if I have brain cancer eating away inside of me anymore. Waiting to know if I get to live a normal life again.
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I jump in the car behind mum and dad. Today is the day we've all been waiting for, I've been fighting this cancer for nine years now. The first few years were hard, but after that it just got harder. The chemo got stronger, the hair fell out faster, and the flowers, visitors, and letters came more often. There's only so many times you can read about people praying for you and saying you 'inspire them' before it looses it's effect. And there's only so many hugs and kisses you can receive before you feel like crawling up in a corner and hiding from people.
I stare out the windows as we drive along, listening to music at full volume from my headphones. I turn my attention to the scenery; the maple trees that line our street and the old-fashioned bungalows side by side, each painted a different shade and surrounded by flowers, some bright and wild, some dull and orderly.
The five minute trip that I'd driven countless times was over quick, and Dad pulled into his usual park, the twenty-storey hospital towering over us. I no longer had to use a wheelchair, and I couldn't help but stand tall with excitement as I entered the foyer, receiving greeting's from numerous nurses and doctors, including Marie, the receptionist.
I could remember the day I was diagnosed. I remember feeling like shit at school, like I was about to die. I'd vomited, been close to fainting, at times I couldn't even breathe. And I remember actually thinking I was going to die right there, without my mommy.
