Downhill From Here (#1)

56. The Letters

W: Mature content ahead

Bowie's POV

2 weeks later

January 31st

Chemotherapy started last week.

I forgot how dizzy it used to make me. It was a green substance in a clear pack hooked up to what looked like a coat rack. And then there was the IV that went into my arm, pumping the mysterious green liquid into my body.

After two hours of that, I wanted to be under my blankets, too tired to do anything.

And I also forgot about how nauseous it made me. Like really nauseous.

I couldn't keep food down and because of it, I was losing weight. Too much weight.

Surgery had gone well. Though the tumor had been removed and my ovary went with it, I was still in the waiting phase, hoping nothing came up on my test results.

What no one tells you about chemo is that while it kills any cancer cell remaining, it also kills all of the healthy ones in that area too. So I was weak and in more pain than ever.

Sleeping was all I ever seemed to do. I'd eat just the throw it up later. My hair was slowly falling out again and my body slowly began to shrink.

It only took two weeks and I was a slave to the medication, barely able to hold my own.

Every day Lilo came over to my house and stayed with me in bed, telling me about her day at daycare. Whitney and Poppy went back to school and came over every weekend while Scarlet planned on flying back here in two weeks.

Gram and Nathan's parents were constantly in the house, helping me in any way, cooking dinner. She had moved back in temporarily, not leaving my side for a moment. It was overwhelming.

Stevie and I spent at least 3 hours a day watching movies in my bed, talking about nothing and everything. Minnow came over every Friday and Nalu had all but moved in.

It was strange how life seemed to move forward but I was going nowhere, only leaving my bed for chemo treatments and running to the bathroom to throw up.

And when I looked at myself in the mirror this morning, I saw the ghost of my past self, my eyes with permanent dark circles, my body so thin. All those months of training and gaining muscle had gone to waste, nothing left but a shadow of what I once looked like.

I swiped my fingertips along my exposed torso, feeling my old surgery scars and the new ones.

It was hard to see myself making it through this the second time around because my body had just barely recovered from the first.

Everything made me tired. Showering was even exhausting.

I walked back into my bedroom, leaning against the wall for support. The sun filled the room and I reached for the bed, stumbling towards the ground. I sat on the floor at the foot of the bed, resting my head against the comforter. I started at my medal that had been hung up against the wall, placed in a glass case. Nathan had put it up there before I arrived home.

After all of the news about my accident and people having so many questions, I decided to go public about my cancer. There was no point in hiding it.

I avoided further interviewing--for obvious reasons--and announced that I would no longer be returning to the sport.

I had received so many DMs and messages on social media from fans and famous people all saying that they were praying for me. Even Mia had tweeted, get well soon! under the hashtag #bowieparkercancer. That actually made me laugh.