Heal // z.m

seventeen | strands of hair & tears

Zayn

It had been about two weeks after my first chemotherapy treatment, my high fever and the days where I could only sit down on the toilet with a bowl in my hands because my stomach decided to empty itself in two ways. It was awful as I was extremely exhausted, but I couldn't stop it. The strength your stomach had was insane- I got woken up to throw up every single hour, even when my stomach was already empty.

Much to my happiness, it was completely over and my body could finally rest and recover from the heavy days.

The high fever was caused by the chemotherapy because it was new to my body and I wasn't immune to it. I didn't think I was ever going to be immune to it, since it was quite aggressive and considering to my Leukemia who was already fighting against my own healthy cells.. it would be rare.

The throwing up and diarrhea was a symptom of the chemotherapy as well. Besides that, I hadn't really noticed other symptoms of it until, now.

I woke up from my deep, full, night slumber and slowly rubbed the sleep from my eyes while yawning quietly. I stretched my arms out and turned on my side, snuggling deeper into the covers and its warmth to just lie down for another few minutes, something I loved.

Opening my eyes, all I could see was darkness. The curtains were closed but my alarm clock read it was already ten am, meaning they let me sleep in today.

I placed my hand next to my face on the pillow and my other hand was resting underneath my cheek. I frowned when I felt something thick but soft laying on my pillow next to my face. I really couldn't make out what it was and it scared me a little.

I slowly sat up and grabbed it, a ticklish feeling was soon followed after that as it felt like something was falling apart, down my arms onto the bed again. I brought it to my face but it was still too dark to see what it was.

Getting out of bed, I carefully made my way over to the window. I still had to gain all of my strength because of being so much in bed the past few days but I was getting there, at least I didn't fall like what had happened a few days ago.

I opened the curtains and closed my eyes at the bright sun that shined right into my eyes . I turned around, opened my hand and stared at it for a while, feeling like my heart just dropped a few inches along with my emotions.

Touching the strand of black hair with my other finger, I saw how the strand fell apart, ten, fifty or maybe a hundred hairs fell down onto the floor and I could only stare at it for a while.

I ran my fingers through my hair and it caused more strands of hair to fall out. The strands were thick and it caused me to feel a little unwell. I had expected it. Of course I had expected it. The doctor told me it would happen after all, but I didn't prepare myself for it. I wasn't ready to lose my hair already. Not yet.

Making my way over to the mirror, I couldn't help but run my fingers through my hair again, plucking out more and more strands. I let them all fall down onto the floor and kept doing it for a while. The more I did it, the more sad and mad I was starting to feel.

I stared at myself into the mirror and I could see my expression changing. I swallowed and clenched my jaw while I continued to pull my hair out, throwing it roughly onto the floor after that. It was unsightly, with all the bald spots on my head but something kept me motivated to keep going and to keep plucking my hair.

Doing it more and more, I eventually felt some kind of anger boiling up in me. Thoughts came back into my mind, the kind that told me this all isn't fair. That I don't deserve to be in a place like this, but, that was selfish. No one deserved this- not even the most cruel person in the world. This sickness was awful and it could ruin people. Physically- to death, but also mentally.