Downhill From Here (#1)

21. The Thanksgiving Gala

Hey! I'm posting a bit earlier than usual.
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Anyways let's get into the chapter!

Bowie's POV

6:22 pm

Wednesday, November 24th (two days later)

I remembered the day I found out so clearly. Except some things would always be fuzzy.

I don't know what day of the week it was or why I had initially gone to the hospital in the first place. I think it was abdominal pain.

I could remember the color of the te the doctor was wearing.

I was by myself and Stevie had texted that she was on her way. Nalu was home visiting his family, thousands of miles away.

I thought the doctor would tell me that I was having stomach issues or something else. But since he said, "Bowie I'm so sorry to tell you this but...it's cancer."

Those words didn't register in my mind because suddenly all noise faded away and everything went black.

When I came to the doctor said I passed out from shock.

Cancer.

It never made sense to me.

Apparently, I was a rare case too. Ovarian cancer at the young age of 22.

Most women who were diagnosed had children in their lifetime. It didn't make any sense.

But that was just the thing, it was genetic. And just like I'd gotten her face and height, I'd gotten cancer. She'd had it right before she died.

I remember crying so much after that. I remember being so angry at her as if that was going to fix anything.

And then came the treatment. I had to take medication that made me vomit non stop and my hair slowly started to fall out. Most days I spent in my bed staring at the ceiling, looking at the little glow-in-the-dark stars.

And when it got worse I was preparing to die.

I'd never told anyone but I wrote letters to all of my loved ones just in case. They still sit at the bottom of my dresser drawer, hidden behind old socks.

I had an option before it got worse. It was stage one and the doctor was worried it'd get worse.

The cancer was located in one ovary but could spread to the other one. So they were going to remove it. 55% survival rate.

I'd been told that I'd have a lower chance of getting pregnant. I had one more ovary left but fewer eggs.

My chance of getting pregnant was low. Too low.

I remember crying. I remember being so angry at the world.

Everyone in my life had taken care of me and I was grateful, so grateful.

But I knew the burden it was. The hospital bills, treatment center visits, post-surgery therapy, and physical therapy.

Cancer comes with revenge, like an angry parasite draining out all of the good things in your life.

Poppy was only 17. Too young to know what to do.

And I promised myself I'd never let people feel that way again. I didn't want to be someone they had to constantly worried about.