If I Leave This World (~Harry Styles~)

Chapter 7

I woke up the next morning to a horrible realization:

I was getting my chemo treatment a day before Harry Styles comes to the hospital to meet me.

Actually, I was supposed to get this chemo treatment two weeks ago, but the doctors decided that I didn't need at the moment and pushed it back because they didn't want to put me through all of that radiation unless it was absolutely necessary.

Great. Just great. Now Harry will see me when I'm both feeling and looking my absolute worst. I thought back to the email from Mr. Bankes: "if you have a problem, please let us now as soon as possible." At this point, I figured it was too late to make any changes and I didn't want to lose what would probably be my only chance at making this wish come true. I had no choice but to suck it up and push any symptoms I might be feeling aside.

It's not like I haven't done anything like that before, but I couldn't help but feel anger and sadness over the fact that I couldn't just feel good for that ONE DAY.

One day, that's all I ask.

But I had no choice other than to brush it aside. My chemo was only in three days, so there was nothing that I could do about it now. Plus, there was no way I would be asking Nurse Annie to make a request to my doctor about pushing anything back.

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The day when I would be getting my chemo came before I knew it. I looked at myself in the mirror one last time.

My eyes would soon have dark circles engraved under them once again.

My cheeks would soon be hollower once again.

My skin would soon become pale once again.

My hair, what painfully little I had growing back, would soon be gone once again.

I sighed. I didn't want to cry about this crap all over again. When I was little (and as you know, I was quite the cry baby), I would cry before and after almost every one of my chemo treatments. Not this time. There is nothing I can do about any of this. I know the drill.

When I got into the room in which the chemo would take place, I said hello to my doctor and it began. The chemo drugs were put right through my bloodstream in a tiny, soft tuber which is called a catheter. Since this was a single IV infusion as opposed to continuous infusion (which I was all too familiar with), the process only lasted an hour. Either way, I was exhausted afterwards.

I was wheelchaired back into my room, already feeling nauseous; one of the many side effects of chemo. I would be meeting Harry Styles TOMORROW and I currenly felt like I had been run over by a train. I would definitely need to put some makeup on to cover up my dark circles.

Just then my mother walked into the room.

"Honey, are you sure you want to go through with this tomorrow? You must feel terrible." Huh, for once she wasn't pretending like I was fine... the one time I wanted her to.

"No, mom. I'm sure. I feel okay. I'll just be sure to rest up today and take meds tomorrow morning." I felt way too sick to even begin to worry about tomorrow. All I wanted to do was listen to my music and relax.

"Are you sure?" My mother nagged. I rolled my eyes and tried not to get too angry with her. After all, she is only doing this because she cares about me.

"Yes, mom. I'm positive."

"Okay, Payton... but be sure to tell me if you change your mind." She said as she began to back out of the room. As if.

"I'll leave you to rest. Call me if you need to. I love you."

"Okay, bye mom. Love you too."

Immediately when she left the room, I felt a wave of nausea come over me. I leapt out of my bed and dashed to the bathroom. I threw myself over the bowl and my body heaved up whatever I had eaten in the last 24 hours, coughing in between my gags.

"Ugh.." I leaned against the toilet bowl, clutching my stomach.

"Why can't I just feel okay...?" I moaned to myself. I couldn't resist complaining at this time. My luck was just too terrible.

No. I thought. No. Tomorrow I will feel FINE. I had to mentally assure myself of this. I read in an article this one time that by thinking positive thoughts, it can have a positive effect on your health as well. I might as well give it a try.

I hoisted myself up off of the floor and quickly brushed my teeth before trudging back into my bed. Annie should be checking on me to make sure I feel okay, but of course she is nowhere to be seen.

I am in so much pain.

I groggily pulled my iPod and headphones out from under my pillow and decided to listen to some music to get my mind off of things. I scrolled through my songs and finally decided on "Open Season" by High Highs. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the gentle beat of tune, allowing the softness of its sound to relax my mind and ease the pain. Before I knew it, I had involuntarily drifted off to sleep.

I jolted awake a few hours later to the song "Love Game" by Eminem. Disoriented from my unplanned nap, I ripped the headphones out of my ear and quickly sat up to look around the room. Bad idea. My head was throbbing. Like, literally throbbing. I covered my eyes with my sleeve and tried to calm myself down. Crying would only make the pain worse.

"Annie... Annie.. ANNIE!" I panicked and quickly rang for the nurse. I took deep soothing breathes and blocked my eyes from the light in my room. When she entered the room, she gave me a confused look. I was holding my head tighly in my hands and had it set between my legs, curled up in a fetal position.

"Migraine..." I said weakly. I was in so much pain that I couldn't even form complete sentences.

"Scale of one to ten, how bad is it?" She asked calmy. I know nurses are supposed to stay calm and everything, but she could obviously see that I was in a state of physical despair.

"Ten." I said without hesitating. She pulled my migraine medication out and gave me two large pills.

As I was swallowing them with water, I threw up. On Annie.

"I'm sorry," I practically sobbed as my head began to throb faster. Annie shrieked.

"Payton!" She yelled at me, disgusted. I thought I was going to start crying. I felt like hell and I accidentally just threw up all over a nurse who can't stand me. Of course, I felt bad for her, but I don't think she realizes how embarrassing and humiliating this is for me. I am so weak. So pathetic.

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A few hours later, my head was feeling a bit better and I hadn't thrown up since...well... Annie. I was laying in my bed with my head back, staring at the ceiling. I was horrified with myself. I almost lost it today. The pain completely took over me and I panicked. I panicked more than I have in a long time. I need to pull myself together, especially if I was meeting HARRY STYLES tomorrow. I screwed my eyes shut at the thought of it. Why in the world did I wish for this again?

Oh, yeah, because I had no more pride left and I "didn't care" that one of the biggest celebrities on the planet would think I'm pathetic. That's why.

I felt like I was going to be sick again, but not because of the chemo this time. What was I thinking? Tomorrow was going to be a disaster. I would feel like crap the whole time and Harry would just see me as a "poor little cancer patient" , even though I'm only a year and a half younger than him. That's not the impression I wanted to make on him. I was sick of making that impression on everyone else.

I pulled my mind out of all of those negative thoughts and tried to turn things around. There is nothing I can do about this situation. Harry will forget about me after tomorrow. The only thing I should be worrying about is enjoying my time with hime. Enjoying what I wished for. Not many people would get this kind of opportunity in their lifetime.

I kept assuring myself of positive thoughts, praying to God that I would feel okay tomorrow. Just one day.

Tomorrow will be fine, tomorrow will be fine, tomorrow will be fine...