Her Secret

three | here we go again

While sitting on this thin sheet of paper, in yet again, another hospital gown, I can't help but already know what Dr. Weker is going to tell me.

My watch-and-wait time has been a giant fail, and I'm going to have to go through chemotherapy and radiation again.

I'm going to have to go through an extra dose of hell again.

I'm going to be even more mentally and physically drained than usual.

I'm going to be nauseous.

I'm going to have an insanely sore throat.

And I may even be a little (or very) constipated.

But worst of all, I'm going to have to watch my family, watch me go through that extra dose of hell. And that is going to hurt like a bitch.

I'm not really sure how to tell them that I'm dying. Tell them that I've lost hope, and that they should too. 

Tell them to leave me to die, and move on with as much of their lives intact as possible.

Because that's what I want. I don't want to be thing that tears my family apart. The thing that causes my parents to divorce. The thing that makes my brother live with a broken family. The thing that ruins my brother. But that's what I am.

Of course though, they wouldn't listen to me, and would be offended for me even thinking these things. 

So instead, I plaster as big of a fake smile as I can muster, and try to seem happy.

Dr. Weker walks into the room and gives me the look. The look that tells me everything I need to know before he can even verbally formulate his sentence.

The look that tells me I was right, and chemo and radiation are in my near future.

"I'm sorry kid, but this watch-and-wait period doesn't seem to be productive. In about a month we're going to be resuming your chemotherapy and radiation."

I wish it could say that the news hits me like a freight train. That I've physically lost my capability to breathe, and this news is going to be the death of me instead of cancer.

But I can't. I'm numb.

So instead I sit a little straighter, grab my mom and Dylan's hands, send Dr. Weker a small smile, and say "Okay."

----

The one thing I will never stop complaining about is therapy.

As I'm sitting on this couch, Dr. Lanil expects me to break down from the news I've just received about chemo and radiation.

She expects me to pour my heart out to her. Expects me to tell her how much I hate the direction my life has taken. Tell her how badly I just want to be normal. Tell her how sad I am that I've put my family through this.

But I don't. I sit here. On this couch. And think of what song I'm going to play when I go home. Think about how I'm going to get this project done before my chemo and radiation has to start. Think of what song the kids at the hospital will want to hear next.

"How are you feeling Lenna? Would you like to talk about what happened at the doctors today?"

I finally look at her, and see she's dressed as she usually is. Black dress pants, a red blouse, and her blonde hair pulled back into a classy bun at the back of her head. Her blue eyes never lose their sparkle, even behind those black rimmed glasses she wears. She is a pretty woman, and I hope she's actually as put together as she looks.

I hate how standoffish I am around her, but I can't help it. She looks at me as if I'm a puzzle she needs to solve. Which I guess I am. Doesn't mean I have to like it.

"I am feeling just peachy Dr. Lanil, and no I don't. It's chemo and radiation. Again. Second time. It's not a big deal."

She sighs, takes off her glasses and in a gentle tone says "You don't have to be strong here Lenna, what you're going through is hard for anybody. I'm here to help you get some of that emotional weight off your chest."

How nice would that be?

Telling Dr. Lanil all my secrets and not feeling like a piece of shit all of the time would be great. Too bad it's not reality.

I can't tell her how I feel about my family and expect to not feel guilty anymore. I can't tell her how much I miss my friends and expect to not miss them anymore. I can't tell her how lonely I've made myself and except to not feel lonely anymore.

So instead I say, "Look doc, I know you guys think all cancer kids are depressed. And how you and my parents think that me dying has effected me so much that I've become disconnected and have lost all my faith in the world. But that's not it. I've accepted my fate. I've come to terms with it. It's as simple as that. So I don't understand why I still have to sit here twice a week, and waste my already limited time here."

She then rubs her eyes and says "If you continue believing and talking like that Lenna, you're going to be here a lot more than twice a week. That I can promise you."

----

After having my head shrunk, I decide to walk back to the hospital.

Don't get me wrong, I hate the hospital, but I ironically spend most of my free time there.

It's one of the things I do to keep myself distracted. I volunteer in the children's wing. I sing to them, and I play with them. Even though it breaks my already broken heart even more every time I'm there.

The children there range from ages 1-14. It keeps me humble really. Reminds to be thankful for the years of remote health I had gotten as a child. To be thankful for the happy years I did get.

When I get there, I see most of the kids in the common room playing, which immediately brings a small smile to my face. A real small smile.

Once I walk into the room they all see me and come running over, shouting my name while hugging my legs.

I let out a small laugh and greet them back.

"Hi guys, what do you want to do today?"

And of course, they want to sing. Which bring another real smile to my face.

I go over to the guitar I keep here and ask "Anything  you guys want to hear?"

A 14 year old boy, named Thomas says "The A-Team, Ed Sheeran."

I smile and nod, then get on with the song.

The sound of my voice and guitar immediately bring me into the trance I've been craving all day. Being able to forget. Just for a moment.

"And they say
She's in the Class A Team
Stuck in her daydream
Been this way since eighteen
But lately her face seems
Slowly sinking, wasting
Crumbling like pastries
And they scream
The worst things in life come free to us

An angel will die
Covered in white
Closed eye"

These lyrics are different. These lyrics force me to look at my life. Force me to see everything I've done wrong. Everyone I've pushed away. Everything they think about me now. Force me to remember my reality. Force me to see not everything is as simple as I've forced myself to believe.

And I don't like it.