I always had bad health. Always catching whatever is going around. Not like my brother, who is as healthy as an ox, never been sick, never been ill. Not like my mom, who was never taken to the doctor, her parents didn't believe in that kind of stuff. Not like Misty, my twin sister, who always understood me, but never had my crappy, good-for-nothing immune system. We don't even look super similar. Just born on the same day. My little sister is six, and doesn't really understand my sickness. So when I started getting joint pain at fifteen years of age, I wasn't surprised. I just ignored it. When I couldn't bear the pain much longer, and it got really bad, I told Mama. She's my other mom, she always fusses over me though. So we went to the doctor. When they asked me to rank my pain from 1-10, I said a 6. They told me after, my pain was what most people would've rated an 8, or a 9. Then, they told me that my joints and cartilage were deteriorating, and I probably had about 6 months to stand. Six months until I couldn't stand ever again. I just cried. Then, they told me I probably had a year to live without a cure. And that there wasn't one at present. A year until I was on my deathbed.
I cried harder.
Dedicated to JadeKent because she understands pain and always listens.
ESTÁS LEYENDO
Book of Books
RandomSee here all of my story ideas in one book! No guarantees that any will become Wattpad stories, but this is just me tossing ideas out there into the endless void of the internet. Comment or vote for one's you want to become real stories, and just co...
