The Story of My Life

Chapter Two

Kinda Short but ehh...

In the summer before my senior year of high school I got sick. I was so sick, my parents took me to the hospital and the doctor there found a tumor in my abdomen and they diagnosed me with cancer, the most aggressive kind. And they gave me six months to live.

Six months to live out the rest of my life and six months to live everyday to the fullest.

I was told that I wouldn't even finish my senior year.

I was told I wouldn't get married and have children.

I was told that I should start saying my goodbyes and plan my funeral.

And I was told to not even start senior year because I would be starting chemotherapy instead.

And I refused.

I started senior year with no hair, and no makeup. I was back to wearing t-shirts and sweatpants and I was frail, like the wind would knock me over in an instant.

Michael was so supportive though. He helped me to class, and at lunch. He drove me to and from school. He helped me with homework and studying. He even cooked me dinner on Wednesday nights.

Every doctors appointment I was told to quit school because the stress would literally kill me.

I didn't listen.

I went to school everyday, even the day after my chemo treatments and I worked so hard to get good grades like I always had.

I took the SAT in December and got a 30 on it, even though I had a chemo treatment that same day.

I started going back to church on Wednesday nights and on Sunday mornings and nights. I also went to every church function. I was baptized in January and taught Sunday School every other week.

I had outlived my six month life expectancy and was still going strong, but the cancer was still there, but they were doing everything they could to try and get rid of it. I was on chemo two times a week by the end of January.

February rolled around and I was weaker than I ever was, and my parents thought that my end was near. I was so weak that I could barely walk, so I was in a wheelchair. But I still went to school, and I was making straight A's.

Ironically, Michael and my one year anniversary was on Valentine's Day and we went out to a really fancy restaurant and he proposed. I said yes in the spur of the moment, but I really didn't know if it would be a good idea. We went home and I showed my parents the ring. They already knew, Michael asked a week before Valentine's Day. We planed the wedding for March and I didn't want it to be a big wedding. I didn't even want a wedding dress, but my mom made me get a dress that was like Cinderella's ball gown and I looked beautiful to everyone else but myself. I had no hair and I was a size one in my dress, when at Junior prom I was a size three. I couldn't wear heels, so I wore white flats and my mom surprised me with a wig that looked exactly like my old hair. I originally had black hair that was not too curly and bangs, and the one my mom purchased me was exactly like my old hair. Without it, I wouldn't be able to wear a veil, and now I could.

The wedding date was fastly approaching and I was happy. Truly, I was. But cancer sucks.

I was admitted into the hospital February 25 and the wedding was March 14. My cancer was getting worse, and the doctors said that now, I only had two or three months left. I thought I could outlive that like I outlived the six month prediction.

We moved the wedding up to March 3rd, and the wedding was going to be in my backyard and the only people invited was our parents and our grandparents. It was a small occasion, but it was like magic.

We had no honeymoon.

All we did was go out to eat with our families and then we were surprised with an apartment close to my parents house. I was grateful, but I knew I was dying.

March 21, 2014 I was admitted to the hospital for a round of chemo. Three days later, I had a heart attack and fell into a coma. I was in a coma for two weeks, and on the third day of the third week, I was taken off of life support and I died.

I died with Michael's hand in my right hand and my mom's hand in my left. I only knew that because after the heart attack, I was like a ghost, out of my almost lifeless body. I didn't want to die, and when the nurses were unplugging life support I was screaming, but no one heard me, I was a phantom to everyone but myself.