The 50 Day Bucket List

Make the Best of a Tough Situation

The room was brighter than the ones I had been in before, too bright. It was sort of neon green with inspirational posters plastering the walls. It was just like the other rooms, except more: more color, more posters, more worry.

It seems weird to most people to think the brighter the room the more worry you have, but when you grow up going to the hospital every week, it makes perfect sense. They always bring you to the brightest room to tell you the worst news.

When Doctor Carl Jones came in, I was sitting in one of the rough plastic neon chairs. He wasn't smiling; he never doesn't smile, unless he's operating or sticking a needle into someone. Suddenly, my worry got worse. I looked to my mom on the right, she was straight faced, but I could tell she was thinking the same thing. I looked to my dad on the left, he had the same expression.

Doctor Carl, he always preferred me to call him that against my parents want for me to call him Doctor Jones, pulled up another neon chair in front of us and sat down. "These chairs aren't very comfortable are they? I guess they were the only ones they could find to match this room."

I nodded and looked around the room more. In the corner I saw shelves of toys and books for the younger children that came in to learn their fate, of course at such a young age, it was nothing to them, it was just normal.

"Is there something wrong, Olivia? You seem quite down," asked Dr. Carl.

I sighed, "This room just feels too bright. You don't have good news do you?"

"You aren't quite as easy to fool as the younger ones. They really need to just make the rooms identical, huh?"

I gave him a weak smile; I just wanted the news to be over with.

He lightly clapped his hands together, which he did often when starting on the real topic of the conversation.

"So, I was looking through the tests from this week and comparing them to the tests from every week since you came in. I tried to search for an answer, but only one thing seems to come through: the chemo has stopped working. The only thing we can do is wait and see what happens."

I just stared at him for a minute. He must be joking. It had to be some sort of joke, but why would he joke about it. He basically just told me I was dying.

The room was silent. My parents weren't saying anything and I was too much in shock to do anything either.

"Olivia, I want you to understand. I know it's hard, but we just need to wait," Dr. Carl was trying so hard to calm me down, but it wasn't working.

"I'm going to die," I whispered.

"Olivia..." he started.

"I'm going to die," I said a little louder. "I am going to die."

"Olivia, you are not necessarily going to die, it could very well just be a fluke." His words seemed to be a whisper even though I knew full well he was talking at a normal voice.

"I'm going to die. That is practically what you just said. Do you not care?" My voice was escalation very quickly.

"Olivia, you aren't going to die. You just have gotten used to the chemo. You just need a break," Dr. Carl's voice was considerably calm and reserved, trying to sooth me.

"I am going to die! You can't hide that from me," I rose from my seat. "How can you be so calm when you're telling me I'm dying? And then tell me I'm not?" Tears were streaming down my face. My mom placed her hand on me to try and get me to sit back down, but I broke away, running from the room.

I ran down the hallway. A few nurses stepped out of the way of my path. One was going to stop me, but when she saw my tears, she got out of the way. I ran and ran until I reached the bathrooms. This was one of the only open bathrooms in the building, but when I ran in, it was empty and silent.

I went into one of the stalls and sat down and cried. I let the tears run down my face and drip onto my shirt. I cried for a few minutes before the bathroom door opened.

I heard the sink turn on as the other person washed her hands. When the water turned off, I heard her walk towards the door, but then turn back and walk towards the stalls.

"Is everything okay in there?" she asked through the door.

"I'm dying," I whispered.

"Dying?"

"Yes, dying," I repeated tears still falling down my face.

"Do you need anything? Should I get someone?"

"No, nothing can stop it now. You can't keep me from dying now."

The girl on the other side sighed, "Can I come in or are you actually going to the bathroom?"

I answered by opening the stall door. The girl looked to be about my age. She had very short hair showing she was in between chemo sessions.

She looked at me, "Did you just find out?"

"Yes."

"Cancer isn't that bad, you get used to coming every day."

"I've had cancer for years. The chemo just stopped working." For a second it seemed weird that she would think I had just found out about my cancer, but then I realized I had my wig on.

"Oh, I'm sorry; I didn't realize that was a wig. I don't think I've ever seen such a realistic wig and I've seen a lot of wigs."

I smiled a bit, "I had never either, it's still the best I've found."

"I guess I need to look around more, I've always gone to the same wig shop."

"Really? Where do you go?"

"It's called Steven's but it's where I used to live. I just moved here. I'm just looking around the hospital since my treatments will be here now."

"Would you like me to show you around?" I asked, thinking it may help me.

"Sure! That would be great if you're up to it."

"Yeah, I'll just send a message to my parents," I said pulling out my phone. I typed a quick message to my parents.

"Here," the other girl said putting out her hand. I handed her my phone and she typed in her number with her name: Chloe.

"Let's head up a level to the cancer floor, that's where you'll spend the most time." I walked out of the bathroom, Chloe following behind.
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A/N:
It's finally here! The first chapter of my NaNoNovel! Who's excited? Okay, maybe it's just me.
Anywho, I will try to post chapters every day or two. I'm thinking about putting this in that new contest if I can edit it in time.
Also, I'm thinking of putting one of my short stories in the Wattys. Should I? and which one?
Have a fantasticle day Watters!
~Ella