Survivor

The Miracle

One of the worst things to hear, is that there's only a limited amount of time to live. Many will say that death is inevitable. Others, me including, beg to differ. Imagine a world where everyone decided to die every time a piece of doubt comes to mind. Every human on earth, would probably be dead. I'm thankful that I'm alive, though frightened at the thought that at any moment could be the end for me. Before mom died, she told me to never give up. No matter the situation, no matter how much I want to, there's hope. Suddenly, I feel pain, my adrenaline kicks in. I feel the urge to scream but yet, I am unable to get the words to come out of my mouth. I hear beeping, the loud, frightening sound I have been afraid of. Doctors come rushing in and I can hear the terrible screams of my dad's cries. I know I must try and fight, he needs me. Cancer won't be the death of me. I refuse to let it take over.

February 19th, 2016.

As my eyes start to open, the first thing in sight is a letter sitting on the table next to my hospital bed. I must be dreaming, or hallucinating, for it appears to be my mother's handwriting. On the blank side of the envelope, it states "open when you survive". I attempt to reach for it, but fail because of how much medicine they have me on. My dad opens the door with lunch in his hand. He realizes that my body is currently paralyzed and sets the food next to me. "Have you seen the letter?", he says to me.

"No, I doubt I'll ever be able to open it." I struggle to say. He leans over and kisses me on the forehead. "All in good time, clementine.". I'll never be able to live that nickname down. Heck, it'll probably be engraved into my stone when the time comes. It all started as a kid. I loved clementine's so much until one day, I got the stomach flu. Maybe it's for the best, I could never stop eating them. Anyway, as my dad got up to leave, a whole concept of fear began to fill up inside me. I felt like as soon as that door shut behind him, that's all. This is my life from now on.

April 9th, 2016.

They said I might be able to go home soon. As much as I'd like to go home, a part of me is dreading going back to the same room where it all started. Going back to the same night with the constant, urgent feeling upon my lungs, lying there, unable to breathe or scream for help. That's when my dad came in to say goodnight, if he didn't, I would have died. I was only nine when they diagnosed me with lung cancer, right before my mom died. Nowadays, my dad is always cautious about everything around him. He checks up on me every hour, making sure I'm still breathing. Isn't that a wonderful thing? I'm almost sixteen and my dad checks on me to see if I'm living. Sometimes my brain wanders off and I wonder what would happen if he came in and I wasn't. Not that I don't want to live, I do, but I can't help but let my mind run.

My birthday is in a few months, the big sixteen. Most teenage girls can't wait to turn the big number. Sweet sixteen, brand new car, friends, fun. Though I, couldn't dread the day most. It's just yet another reminder that I'm not the same as everybody else. Honestly, even the people who don't get anything for their birthday, are still privileged. They don't have to worry about tomorrow not being there. It's just, there. Tomorrow.

April 16th, 2016.

I'm finally going home today, my dad said there's a surprise waiting in my room. Says I'll like it, though I'm not sure. Last time he said there was a surprise, he gave me sea monkeys. Until one day when my grandma was over taking care of the house when we were gone, she thought it was dirty water. She ended up dumping them down the sink.

As the doctor's unhook all the contraptions on my body, I slowly stand up. Immediately I feel nauseous but I knew if I were to say something, I'd have to stay for even longer. Instead I shake it off while waiting for my dad to sign me out. He helps me into his truck and I can smell the fresh scent of oak. Living out in such a beautiful place, we have tons of trees. I can imagine the maple tree in the backyard, sitting there, peacefully. I couldn't wait to see it, to dangle from the branches, to pray while sitting in front of the big, bulky, trunk. Then, it hits me. I cannot dangle from the branches, pray while sitting in front of the big, bulky trunk. I can recall the nurse saying that I will be restricted from going outside. Something about the air pollution, it could damage my lungs more than they already are.

Suddenly, I jerk forward and ease back into reality. This is it, I'm home. Looking to my side, dad is sitting there, his smile so bright that it could bright up this very earth.

"Ready Clem?" he asks.

"Ready than ever." I say

My dad gets out of his side and comes over to help me out. As my feet hit the pebbles, and I feel a gust of wind blow that one strand of hair out of my face, I feel like one with the world. Such a beautiful feeling where it doesn't matter who I am, how I am, and what lifestyle I have. For a split second it feels as if I am the only one on this vast earth. People at school used to call me crazy, but my dad always told me I just have a more extended, precise, mind than others. That counts for something, right? A part of me wants to be different, but the other wants to be the same as everyone else. Some days being me is too much, and some days being me isn't enough.

I walk through the front door to hear a small bark. Maybe it's the neighbors, I think to myself. But as I stumble up the stairs, my dad following, I realize that it's coming from my bedroom. I run as fast as I can and open up my door. Happiness fills through my body as I run towards the French bulldog. The kind of dog I've been dreaming of having for years upon years. Words cannot exit my mouth so I give my dad the biggest possible hug.

"Her name, is Lily." my dad struggles to say. He's a big guy, but with a big heart.

Tears start to run down my cheeks along with all these feelings I never could've imagined existed within me. Lily was my mother's name. My grasp on my dad tightly and I feel closer than ever with my mom. Like she was in the same room, and we were a family again.

May 9th, 2016.

It's early in the morning and I am being rushed into the hospital for important news. Neither my dad or I know what it is. We pull up to the parking lot and rush inside. I'm so anxious for there's no way of knowing whether it's good or bad. My doctor immediately calls me into his office and asks my father and I to sit down. A few minutes later, I find myself covered in tears of joy. My lungs had cleared up, they were healthy again.It's like a miracle has just suddenly happened but I don't even need an explanation, I'm so happy. I am a survivor.

I run upstairs to my room, Lily chasing me. I take the letter and rip it open, once again, I feel closer than ever with my mom when I realize it's from her.

"To my beloved daughter, you mean the entire world to me. The doctors told me I have a limited time to live, but I've come to accept it. You mean so much to your father and I, and I will forever be watching you from above. When you read this, you'll be a survivor. I am so proud of you sweetheart, you have became such a strong, young woman. I knew that cancer wasn't nearly as powerful as you are. You are the reason of your father and I's happiness. You are so beautiful, and I love you dearly.

Love, mom."

The best birthday present I could've ever gotten. Attached at the end of the letter is a picture of us all together, and another of a French bulldog. She knew cancer wouldn't be the death of me. She knew all along. On the back is a bucket list, mom used to always give me these. Constantly I bugged her about how bored I was so she'd make me a list of things to do and told me that until I finished it, I couldn't say I had nothing to do. Although I take a quick glance at it, I figured I'll leave it to read tomorrow, something I'll be able to live again, tomorrow.