It won't be scared away this time.

Number 16- Go to Rome and See if Italian Pizza is as good as it’s meant to be. Maybe visit the coliseum too, if you’ve got the time. 

‘It’s Terminal.’

Two words. That’s all it took. Two words for my Mum to break down completely- hysterical sobs escaping her poor attempt of a muffled mouth.

Two words for my Dad to close his eyes and clutch his chest as though there was something wrong with his heart;  for tears to spill out of his eyes uncontrollably as he stared at the doctor, trying to form words but his throat wouldn’t allow it.

Two words for the most controlled and organized person I have ever met, and ever will meet, my sister, to begin screaming as if she was in agony. I suppose in a way, she was.

Two words is all it took for my family to begin to self-destruct.

I’d had cancer for a year now, a brain tumour. I thought of it as a monster actually. Eating its way at my brain; unstoppable. I’d always envisioned it to be like the monster under my bed as a kid- something always there in your mind; no matter how many times your parents reassured you that it was fine. That there was no monster there at all- or if there was, they would scare it away in an instant. (Or so they said they did, I never really believed them.)

Unfortunately this time Mum and Dad couldn’t scare this monster away or convince me it wasn’t there- because it was. And although it scared the crap out of me, I had to get over it. The monster was there, and it wasn’t going away no matter how many meds they put me on. 

I’d known that for a while though.

Sure, Mum, Dad and Erin only found out until now. The doctors only figured it out this morning, and gave us the bad news the second they did. I’m just glad one of them was civil enough to come over rather to call us up to tell me I’m going to die.  That would be a bit depressing.

Well, a bit more depressing. 

I think I’ve known since the beginning. When I first went for an MRI scan and they told me that the monster was lurking there. In my head. After I got over the initial shock of it, (I figured I was having bad headaches), I got pretty mad. Which I think is fair- I find out there is this thing inside me, inside my own private space; and while I’m feeling as though someone’s invading it, I’m supposed to just sit happily and twiddle my thumbs. Nope. I was pissed. 

But not because I had the monster.

It was because I knew I would miss out. I wouldn’t see Erin getting married. Hell, I wouldn’t see me getting married. I wouldn’t have kids, nor see my parents react to their first grey hairs- I wouldn’t be able to fall in love and travel the world. 

 

The second I found out about that monster, I knew I wouldn’t see past sixteen.

Why?

Because that’s what monsters do. They stay under your bed. They stay in your brain.