fifteen weeks. // 5sos au //

one .

95 days to go.

Rosie didn’t leave the hospital bed for ten days straight. Soon after she was diagnosed and given the news she was also informed that since the cancer had spread to so many different organs she would have to stay in the hospital until either she recovered by some small chance of a miracle or, she died. She had no problem with having to sit in the same room for the last days of her life considering she’d been doing the same thing at home for months, this just was an excuse for her mom not to pester her to go out with friends. 

Her mother would stay with her all day and try to make a conversation, which Rosie would shut down almost immediately each time. It wasn’t that she didn’t love her mom, it was just that the depression had changed her into a new person. She had always had a small sliver of happiness, a few nice words to say, despite the huge weight of sadness she carried around. But those tiny bits of kindness were long gone along with any want to socialize with anyone. Rosie was perfectly fine with keeping to herself and staying quiet. She felt no need to have conversations that no one would remember when she was gone.

Once she got out of that cruel messed up world, everyone would go back to their own daily struggles. She saw herself as being a flat tire in her mother’s life. And once she got a new tire to replace the broken one, she could toss it on the side of the road and continue on her journey. Rosie believed she wasn’t important enough to impact anyone’s life drastically.

Her “friends” hadn’t bothered to visit despite the various attempts Rosie’s mother had made to get them to come see her. That was expected from Rosie, so she wasn’t really bothered by it at all. “The less people I have to say goodbye to, the better,” she thought to herself.

Her father hadn’t even been informed about Rosie’s diagnosis. They hadn’t been able to contact him in weeks which worried them both deeply, but Rosie would never show it and her mother was too concerned with her daughter’s health. Rosie would stay up for hours at night, long after visiting hours were over and “lights out” had been announced. She would sit awake for most of the night worrying about not getting to see her father before she died. It would make it easier, this she knew, but she would have liked to tell him she loved him one last time. One thing that strangely made her feel somewhat comfortable was the fact that now her and her father were both fighting battles. Granted he was making more of an effort to win his war, but for some reason knowing they were both doing something similar somehow made her feel connected to her dad and gave her a small bit of relief. 

Her mother had to go back to work on what would be the eleventh day of Rosie staying in the same hospital bed. The nurses were a bit worried for her considering she had no desire to leave the room. She had been offered numerous times to eat at the cafeteria on the main floor, but she had always refused, insisting on eating the pitiful excuse of a meal in her bed. 

But early that morning, before her mom went to work she made a phone call to the hospital requesting they make Rosie eat on the main floor. She had been informed the night before that other cancer patients ate there along with some visitors. If her mother couldn’t make her hang out with friends outside of the hospital, this was her loophole to making her socialize inside the hospital. And Rosie couldn’t have been any angrier about it.

The nurse that was assigned to her room - Ms.Debby - was a short and chunky dark skinned woman in her early thirties. She was quite possibly one of the sweetest women you’d ever meet, unless you got on her bad side. Sometimes patients didn’t understand that nurses were in charge and could tell them what to do and what not to do. And when that happened, Ms. Debby switched off her kind button real quick. Which is exactly what happened when Rosie refused to leave her bed for breakfast that morning.