Made To Go Rogue

Prologue - A Not-So-Normal Doctor

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  Beep-beep. Beep. Beep-beep. Beep.

  This tone had been my bedtime lullaby for months now. At first, I was scared of it, but now I'm resigned. They say I have days to go. What I ask them is where I was going. Heaven? Hell? The ether? I had never been a particularly bad person, but I had never been a particularly good person either. Does that mean I go to limbo? Not good enough for either Heaven nor Hell?

  These were questions running through my mind as I practically felt the diseased cells rage rampage through my body, taking over healthy cells like they were the last bits of clean oxygen being corrupted by Carbon Dioxide. I had a lot of time to think these last few months. Anything and everything ran through my mind, like 'what if?'. Those came around a lot, knocking on the door of my mind and asking if they could visit again. Like thoughts have ever been polite.

  Must be the chemo.

  I can blame the chemo for a lot these days: my lost figure, my disintegrated hair, my new way of seeing the world. Well, it's not very new. The chemo, instead, just simply dissolved the last if my already tedious filter in my brain.

  This cancer inside of me was a beast. A beast that needed to be satisfied, and if that meant going through me, it would do it. I had a small chance of survival at the beginning – now that chance is non-existent. One of the victims of the beast.

  There was a soft knock on the door, and I looked up from the blue pristine and sanitised bedspread. I couldn't remember the last time I had been in a bed that wasn't clean and sanitised.

  Who would come by this late in the night? The Nurses had already been past and given me my nightly meds – what did they want from me now? I quietly called out at the door for them to come in. Not the door, but rather the body assuming you attached to the knocking hand. One would hope they were attached.

  (Chemo.)

  A man in a white doctors coat came in. So a doctor then. Except I had not seen this doctor before, and I had seen a lot of doctors recently. He Looked up from his clipboard and smiled at me. It was a nice smile, and for once it wasn't empty. Most doctors smiles were empty because they had to smile so much to dying patients – it took it out of you I can tell you that. But this smile was warm. It had something extra in it, something I couldn't quite put my finger on. Then it occurred to me that this doctor, this doctor with the non-empty smile... Had hope.

  "Ms Amora, how are you feeling today?" A boring run of the mill question asked with an American accent. Maybe from the south? I wouldn't know, I wasn't from here.

  "I feel no worse than yesterday," I answered, the usual run of the mill answer for the boring run of the mill question. "What can you offer to me today, Doc? More drugs? Less time? Chocolate fudge cake?"

  He put the clipboard down and laughed. "I'll see if I can get you some of that chocolate fudge cake, but otherwise I've come to offer you more time."

  More time? The only thing these doctors have been doing is taking away days from my lifespan. Who the hell was this Doctor?

  "Who are you?" I was wary of the open, hope filled doctor who offered me chocolate fudge cake and more time, because there were three things wrong with him: there wasn't any hope, I couldn't get more time and there was no way the stingy nurses would allow me to have a whole chocolate fudge cake. I'd tried. There were other things wrong with this Doctor. He was young, maybe in the mid twenties, and his coat was too big for him. Underneath I could see some blue jeans and raggedy trainers on his feet. I slowly (not that I could do anything fast at this point) pushed myself up to sit.

  "You're a smart one, aren't you." He stuffed his hands in the coat pocket, and studied me.

  "I'd like to think that the Chemo hasn't taken all of my functioning brain cells with it." My hand crept to the nurse call button.

  "I wouldn't do that." My hand froze. "At least, not until you hear me out." He unbuttoned the coat slowly, like he expected me to press the button anyway. It slipped off of him revealing a stained jumper. He lay the coat on the only chair in the room. Not like it was being used for anything else.

  "What do you want from me?"

  "Oh no, it's not what I want from you it's what you want from me." He smiled at me, and again I was struck with the hope. Could he really give me more time?

  "How can you give me more time? Is it a new drug? A new treatment? Not much would help when I'm this far gone." His smile faltered a touch, now with pity. I didn't want his pity.

  "It's not a drug, nor a treatment. If anything it's a disease. But-" he added before I could fire confused questions at him. "I'd say there was a 80% chance that you would live. So tell me, Miss Samantha Amora," he said and leaned forward. "Do you want to live?"

  I had days left, and no one here for me. The doctors had given up on me. What had I to loose? Self pity? I think it was about time, to be honest. So, do I trust this open smiled hope filled not-a-doctor and take a gamble with my life?

  Hell yeah.

  I slowly nodded.

  His eyes glowed a faint purple.

  "Well then, it would be best if you called me Sam then."

  He grinned. "And you should call me Drew."

  He better pay up on that chocolate fudge cake.

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Okay, this is a new story of mine that i've been working on. Cuz i'm quite bogged down with work, the more who read and vote the quicker i'm going to update, and i think that sthe best for my own sanity :)

So, you like it and want to read more? Intrigued? Want to know how things end up panning out? Vote my lovelies!

- Mia xxxx