Foster Angel

Chapter 33

Chapter 33
*Grayson's POV*
We all go back to Lilia's room and see how she is doing. "How is she? Is she ok?" I ask. "I have some bad news," the doctor says. My stomach drops and my heart stops. "What," I say. "We found a stage 4 brain tumor called Glioblastoma. It is very dangerous and potentially life threatening." "Well get it out!" I say. "It's not that simple. Because her tumor is stage 4 it grows at a rapid pace. Which means it will spread through her entire brain in a short period of time so we won't have a long time to take it out. And even if she did decide to do surgery there is a very high chance that the tumor could grow back." "So what are we going to do?" Ethan asks. "Well, she has two options. One, get a surgery right away and try to remove the tumor. Go through many rounds of radiation to make sure the tumor doesn't grow back. Or two, don't do anything." "And what will happen if we don't do anything?" Mom asks. "Well the tumor will continue to grow and will eventually shut down her brain.... which will kill her."

*Lilia's POV*
My blood runs cold. This can't be happening. After all I've been through, after I just wake up. I have a brain tumor. "I don't want the surgery," I say. Everyone turns to look at me stunned. "What?!?" Grayson yells. "I said, I'm not getting the surgery." "No! You have to! You'll die if you don't!!" "Could you leave us alone for a second," I turn to everyone else in the room. They look at me for a moment still in shock. I wave my hand and they leave. I turn to look at Grayson and his hands are balled up and he is tense. I place my hand on his. He looks down at me and he relaxes. His eyes are full of sadness, anger, and frustration. "Have a seat," I say pointing towards the chair. He pulls it over and sits down. "Lilia, you have to get the surgery. You'll die if you don't do it." "I could get the surgery, yes, but I don't want to be contained in a hospital room my whole life. I would rather live my life... or what's left of it." "B-but-" "No Grayson," I interrupt him,  "I've made my decision. There's no changing it. Now please go outside and bring the doctor in here. I would like to speak to her, alone." He stares at me. "Please," he whispers. He clenches his jaw and his eyes become watery. "Please don't make this harder than it has to be Gray." A tear slowly rolls down his face. "You aren't supposed to die," he says, "you're supposed to live your life. You're supposed to get married and have kids. You're supposed to grow old and have a family by your side. You're supposed to be my sister until we're in a nursing home holding each others hands as we walk towards the light. You're not supposed to die at 17. You're not supposed to die." Tears roll down his face faster and faster. I start to cry. "Don't you see Gray, I don't need wrinkles, gray hairs, and kids to have a family...... you are my family. You, E, Kylie, Mom, and Dad. You are my family. And I will hold your hand as I walk into the light. Now you might not be coming with me, but you will visit me eventually. And when you do I'll be waiting," I smile. He smiles too. "I love you Gray," I say. He sniffles. "I love you too Lilia." I wipe my eyes and he does too. "Now go out there and get me the doctor." "Ok," he laughs. He walks out and the doctor walks in. "How much time do I have left?" I ask. "Five months," she replies. I know that's not right. "Come on, don't sugar coat it. Tell me the truth." "With the rapidness of your tumor growth and because your brain was damaged before from the accident, probably one to two months." That's more like it. "How is each week going to go down?" I ask. "I'm not sure I understand the question." "What am I going to loose in the first week? Speech? Writing? Movement?" "Well it's different for everybody. But normally in the first week we see deterioration in writing and reading abilities. Around the second week movement becomes more difficult. Third week memory and speech start to become worse. And by the fourth or fifth week, everything starts to shut down." "Well in that case I'm going to need a pen and some paper." "Um, ok." The doctor leaves and comes back with some paper and a pen. "Thank you. You can leave now." "Do you want your family to come in and ta-" "Nope," I interrupt her. "Oh, ok." "Thanks!" She smiles and leaves. I grab the paper and pen and start to write.