Dying Free

chapter 3

~In 2018 about 9.6 million people died from cancer and 17 million new cases appeared.~

(On top I have a very informative video about port accessing, you can watch it if you'd like, unless you are afraid of needles, blood, etc.)

I wake up about two hours later and hurry to take a shower ignoring the pain that starts to come back. I then starilize my desk and place everything I need on top of it to access my lego.

When I'm done with the process, I put a few more things in my bag and I head downstairs carrying my duffel bag and wearing a large sweatshirt that hides my accesed port from common view.

I hate when people stare at my chest. It's creepy and weird.

"Shall we go"? I ask when I find my family in the kitchen. They nod and my mom throws me my face mask before we head out.

She is convinced that the piece of fabric and the filter will save my poor non-fully-functional immune system from the germs of the outside world that can kill me with one common cold.

I stuff the mask in my sweatpants pocket but she glares at me until I place it over my mouth and nose. I hate looking sick. That's when people stare the most. When you look the part.

As I step out of our house I can't help but wonder if it will be the last time.

I softly caress the wall before I snap out of it and run behind my brother ignoring my lungs that are burning because of the cold air.

The ice cream shop is empty. I wonder why...

I'm ready to order my usual but I instead order a flavor I've never tried before. It's called berry tornado. My father and Jullian shoot me suspicious looks but my mom doesn't really pay attention. She seems lost in thought.

She will probably stay silent until I'm out of surgery. That's how she always is.

"So...about tommorrow"... i start saying when I'm done with my ice cream but my dad stops me by shaking his head. I frown and am ready to continue when I notice the tears in his eyes. My father is...crying?

I have never seen him shed a tear. Not even when his mom died last year. I always thought he was as tough as he looks with the tattoos,the taken care of beard and the muscley frame. He has always been my hero. Always strong,nothing seeming to touch him.

But now...he is crying? I feel my throat closing and I think I might cry too. Not for me. For dying or for being sick. But for him. Because I clearly see now that I hurt him too. I caused the big man pain.

"Dad..." i whishper as a tear escapes his eyes. He immediatly shoots up from his chair and leaves the table. My mom is looking at him sadly and Jullian looks as shocked as I feel.

"Ophelia. Jullian. Let's get going". Mom says softly and gets up. We follow after her hesitantly and get in the car.

The road to the hospital is quiet. The mood is heavy and the tension as thick as butter. I hug my bag tighter against my aching chest while looking at the blurry landscape outside my window.

We live only fifteen minutes away from the hospital Saint Luke. I know the hospital like the palm of my hand. I know all the doctors and nurses and all of them know me. I dare to say I am a favorite amongst the patients.

Through the years I met other kids with cancer. Our floor is always full. But never with the same kids. Some come and go like the snow. Some come and leave with smiles on their faces and some just come but never leave the same way they came, through the front doors.

Only a few are my age. A girl named Selena is my best friend in the hospital. She never leaves. Her and her mom stay in the hospital all year round. She has leukemia and has been there since I was thirteen and she was twelve.