I sturdy my oxygen cart on it's wheels, pushing it up against the beige painted bathroom wall. I hole my hand up to it, as if telling the noun to "Stay".
Over the week, I had visited my doctor twice. I had a more rare type of breast cancer in my body, one that hasn't found a cute yet exactly.
Basically, I'm screwed.
After we had a long talk about my bodily functions, most I didn't understand, we came to the conclusion that I had better use my oxygen cart when in the home. It's better than using it out of home, so I can't complain.
I look up into the mirror before me, running my fingers through out my boy-cut styled hair. About a year ago, my hair began falling out so I shaved my head completely.
Surprisingly, my cancer had gotten better and my hair started to grow back, but only to a certain length. I didn't mind, the short cut fit me. Now, my cancer is becoming worse, and I know how much they, everyone, doesn't want me to know, but I know. I know all about the time I have. I know all about the limited choices I'm able to gain, a lot.
I stare at my reflection in the mirror, proud of what looked back into my eyes.
Grasping my cart back into my hands, I wheel the object back into my room, patiently waiting for my parents to notify me of there readiness.
While waiting, I grab the leathered black journal from under my pillow.
I scan through my previous entries, smiling at the times. I open the wooden drawer in my knightstand, pulling out a green pen.
Today was the day it all started, or around the day. So, I'm just going to make my best guess.
Day 2,
I believe I'm feeling alright. How do I know? I have nothing to compare these days to.
I made a friend named Liam, and he seems lovely. Now, I have to wheel around this heavy oxygen cart in my home, but only when I'm home.
I decide to end the note there, hearing my parents open their bedroom door.
"Melissa, are you ready?" My father's voice sounds from the hall. "Yes." I reply, and unhook myself from the blue oxygen tank.
As I stand up, I flatten out my dress and strut over to the door. I flash a smile towards my fathers direction, and then my mothers. Opening the door for the both of them, we all head out of our home and gather into our silver Jeep.
"So honey," my father begins, "how are you feeling?"
I sigh to myself, hating how occasionally the man asks me the same question. "Like a cancer patient." I reply. As his eyes are focused on the road, I see the soft smile upon his lips, having it been a little game of ours since I was diagnosed at 15.
After a few moments of my cellular device navigating the motions of the car, we pull into a driveway of some light blue paneled house.
Not even a full minute upon our arrival, Liam opens his front door, greeting us with smiles. He shakes my fathers hand and hugs my mother, me going in lastly. "You look amazing, Melissa." He compliments me, making myself blush. "Why thank you, Liam. Also, you can call me Missy." I quietly whisper to him. He nods, taking my hand and pulling me gently through the living room and out onto the back patio.
"Hello," I greet two people sitting at a glass table, "I'm Melissa, but you can call me Missy if you'd like."
The male, I'm assuming Liam's father, stands up to shake my hand. "Hello, I'm Liam's dad, Geoff, and this is my wife, Karen." I wave a quick gesture towards the happy couple, and pause as my parents take a seat at the table to join them.
