The Letters

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May 12, 2012 Allison Ticket was diagnosed with a growing tumor on the right side of her liver. Her parents were desperate for a doctor to say they could fix their baby but every doctor turned them down, one crushed

their hopes even more by telling them that Allison had less than six months

to live, if that.

By August, the first day of Allison's sophomore year, only her family knew of her tumor. All of her friends( the whole sophomore class) where clueless as to why Allison was always gone, they had no idea what was going on.

On September 4, 2012 Allison's science teacher, Mr. Morith, passes out a paper demand parent permission. To watch a live surgery on camera! The classroom was split between disgust and excitement. Girls where grossed out and guys thought it was cool( go figure).

Later that night just as Allison and her parents were siting down for dinner their phone rang. Her father answer it. Her doctor had found a rare form of treatment for Allison's tumor. Every one rushes into the office down town. Becoming more and more excited by every word the doctor said, until he mentioned the mortality rate. Allison had a 5% chance to survive the surgery.

They argued for days about the surgery. Allison won them over with the fact that even without the surgery she would definitely die, if she did the surgery she has a chance. The surgery was scheduled for September 20, 2012. The day of her classes live video feed of a surgery.

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Chapter one

Allison walked into the white sterile room with a grim determination. Only four months ago she was laughing about how much she hated doctors offices with her friends; now she was in one every other week since May. It was September.

Her tumor had grown to almost two inches in diameter. And considering that less than five months ago it wasn't there, the thought was terrifying.

The room was quite like it always was. No one in my family even bothered to look up, they knew it was me. And while that may sound harsh, they knew I didn't need any hugs, kisses, flowers, or any other gooey, "get-well-soon" crap.

"Can I spend the night alone, please?" I asked my parent's, aunt's, uncle's, cousin's, grandparent's, you name it and they were there; my whole family was in my room, packed in like sardines.

My mother's look was so sad and understanding that they soon followed her out, all of them brushing past me with goodnight kisses and hugs. Soon room 4139 was complete empty, except for me. But even my thin excuse of body was hardly wasted in that space.

Its stark white walls and perfectly made bed was small, even if it was one of the largest rooms in this hospital. Sarah Bush Lincoln Hospital. It was a mouth full, but it was all we had in Mattoon, Illinois.

My slippered feet padded silently over to my bed. Its uncomfortable springs and itchy sheets were nothing like my own. But I wouldn't have to worry about that for long.

Just as I got settled my nurse, Miss Bloom, entered to hook up my IV's. It hurt -- it hurt like hell. It was usually okay, most of the times she put one in, but if the nurses and doctors couldn't find a vein to inject the fluids I needed, they started pinching and sticking that needle in random places in hopes of finding a vein. She kept trying to to smile even though she was sorry for me. She was a good nurse in that way. Others would get irritated and mean if they had to spend more than five minutes with a patient.

Miss Bloom eventually gave up on my left arm and moved to my right, where she found a vein on the first try. Figures. She told me that she would see me in the morning then patted my shoulder, bare, the paper gown was falling off my slim shoulders, with her soft wrinkled one. Sorry for what I was about to go through she would later sneak into my room and talked to me after her shift ended, I decided then that I would write her a letter too.

Once she left I pulled out the folded papers that I hid under my pillows. My letters.

To my family.

To my friends.

To my teachers.

To everyone.

My letters of explanation, for the surgery, for why I was friends with someone, why I wasn't friends with someone. Every person in my sophomore class, a couple of freshman, juniors, and seniors. My family, if course. And my teachers, all of them from kindergarten to my current ones.

I was writing my 123 letter that night. I was usually was able to write just about five or eight a day. I had to right twenty more by one o'clock tomorrow afternoon before I had to go into surgery.

Currently it was 8:37 p.m September 19. On September 20 I was going into surgery.

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This is my first story, so be nice, but every comment would be appreciated!! Thank you!! I should have chapter in by the end of the week!!

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