A Million Stars Apart

Chapter 1

The chemotherapy drugs coursed through the IV line and into my veins, that familiar burning sensation making me wince. I tried to focus on the muted conversation show playing on the small TV mounted to the wall across from my hospital bed. Anything to take my mind off the poison being pumped into my body.

It had been three months since the lump first appeared on the side of my neck. Two years of doctor visits, tests, biopsies, and finally, the devastating diagnosis - stage three Hodgkin lymphoma. I was only sixteen years old. How could this be happening to me?

The cancer had spread from the lymph nodes in my neck to my spleen, bone marrow, and other lymph nodes above my collarbone. My prognosis was "good" according to the doctors, following the standard chemotherapy protocol. But I couldn't shake the fear constantly gnawing at me. What if it didn't work? What if the chemo couldn't beat this monster?

I glanced over at my mom, who had hardly left the uncomfortable recliner chair by my bedside. Her brow was furrowed, fingers absentmindedly twisting a tissue, as she stared at the chemo bags hanging above me. I knew she was trying to stay positive, for my sake. But I could see the sadness and worry etched on her face.

This was our new normal - an endless cycle of chemo, sickness, tests, and dashed hopes mixed with cautious optimism. My life had been put on hold, stripped down to this sterile hospital room and the battle raging inside my body. All the normal teenage things - going to the mall with friends, dreaming about college, having a first kiss - suddenly seemed so trivial yet incredibly distant.

As another wave of nausea washed over me, I closed my eyes tightly and envisioned my last summer swim meet before I got sick. I could almost feel the water engulfing me, taste the chlorine, hear my teammates cheering me on. Those were simpler times when my biggest worry was shaving a few seconds off my race times.

The chemo regimen was ruthless - five days of inpatient treatment every three weeks, then a two-week break before starting the cycle all over again. On the roughest days, I struggled just to keep water and crackers down. My thick blonde hair had thinned to wisps. My skin took on a dull, almost grayish pallor.

Some days, as I laid there feeling like life was being drained out of me, it was hard to muster hope. Especially when I saw the gaunt, bald-headed patients shuffling down the hallway, their IV poles dragging behind them. Were they winning? Or just delaying their fate?

I blinked hard, forcing those morbid thoughts from my mind. I had to stay positive. I was young and strong, with my whole life ahead of me. I would beat this stupid cancer into remission.

A gentle rap on the door broke the silence. My best friend Zara peeked her head in with a wide grin.

"Hey Abigail! I come bearing milkshakes," she sang out, holding up a carrier with two large cups from our favorite diner.

Despite the churning nausea, I managed a weak smile. Just seeing Zara's bright, caring face instantly lifted my spirits. Leave it to her to bring a little normalcy into this crazy world.

"You're a lifesaver," I said as she set the milkshake on my tray table. Double chocolate - my favorite.

Zara plopped into thechair next to my mom and immediately launched into the latest drama - something about her boyfriend Sean and another girl's Snapchat messages. Her animated story was such a welcome distraction.

For those brief moments, I could almost pretend I was just another normal teenager dealing with normal friendship woes and heartbreaks. Not a cancer patient being poisoned by chemicals in a desperate bid to save her life.

As Zara rambled on, I slowly sipped on the thick milkshake, letting the rich chocolate flavor coat my mouth and hopefully settle my queasy stomach. With my eyes closed, I could almost imagine we were back at the diner, sharing greasy fries and giggling over the cute waiters like we used to.

"...so then Sean tried to say the messages were just 'friendly,' but I mean, who calls another girl 'sweetie' unless they're totally into her?" Zara groaned, snapping me back to reality. "Boys are such idiots."

"Seriously," I agreed with a small laugh, forcing myself to engage. "You're way better off without that loser."

Zara shot me a wry smile, then her face fell as she seemed to really take in my appearance - the dark circles under my eyes, chapped lips, and bald head peeking out from beneath my beanie.

"Oh Abby..." she said softly, reaching over to gently squeeze my hand. "I'm so sorry you're going through this hell."

I squeezed back, a sudden tightness gripping my chest. "It's okay, Zara. I'm okay, really. Just keep me updated on all the soap opera relationship drama. It's better than anything on TV."

She gave a sad chuckle. "You know I've got you covered there, girl."

We lingered that way for a moment, my friend's hand in mine, an unspoken conversation of sadness and hope passing between us. Then she visibly brightened, squeezing once more before releasing my hand.

"Enough about dumb boys! I have so much to fill you in on..." And just like that, she launched into the latest campus gossip and friend antics like we were back walking the halls between classes.

I settled back against the stiff hospital pillows, letting Zara's bubbly, comfortingly familiar voice wash over me. For this brief respite, I could just be Abigail again - not a cancer patient, but simply a teenage girl surrounded by the normalcy of silly high school drama. It was the escape I desperately needed to keep my spirits up during this long, frightening battle.

No matter how harsh and draining the chemo became, I vowed I wouldn't let this disease rob me of the amazing life awaiting me once I beat it. I would make it through this nightmare and experience all those normal milestones I dreamed about - college, first love, career, and so much more.

I had no choice but to keep fighting and have faith that the treatments would work. There was just too much living left for me to do.