The next few weeks sort of blurred by. Despite the previous conversation at dinner, I never took my math test. Right before I fell asleep, my mom had come into my room and told me about her decision to withdrawal me from school and put me through online classes. It seemed so dramatic. And sudden. Of course I knew my condition was already serious, but I didn't think it would all move so fast. It had only been hours since my diagnosis, and I was leaving my friends, my classmates, and peers for the rest of the school year. Maybe the rest of my life.
It took several days to finally comprehend how serious I was. One agonizing day later, I was back in the same leather chair staring at the same doctor, but this time I listened. He told me more about what I had to go through, about why this happened to me. I learned about my options. After several objections from my mom, she left the room and it was just me and Dr. Formin. The median lifespan with the normal radiation and chemotherapy was 15 months. With not treatment, 4 1/2. With that depressing thought in mind, he went on to explain that I would most likely not be median. They found my two tumors too late.
Yet, that was, apparently, common. The doctor said my type of cancer lingers until the tumor is an enormous size.
He then went on to list the symptoms. Seizure, nausea, vomiting, memory loss, and something called hemiparesis. When questioned, he told me it was a weakling of one side of the body. I had only experienced the seizures and memory loss. Dr. Formin told me I would most likely experience all of these. And one more.
I would change. I would no longer be myself anymore. My moods would be hectic and I would forget things. While I had forgotten things already, it was only for a short period of time and I would then remember, but I was terrified to lose a memory for good. And the thought of acting like a different person? I didn't even want to think about it.
The median lifespan after diagnosis was 3 months but could stretch to a year or two with treatment.
None of the this is what made me change my mind.
When I had fully processed what my options were and understood them, I decided to go into the restroom to wash my face. So I left his office and slowly traipsed down the hall in a daze, but as I was walking I saw my mother.
She was sitting on a bench, blankly staring at a wall. Despite her not crying, my stomach flipped. Her gaze was so empty. It held nothing. It was like she was gone. That broke my heart.
Yes, I was the one leaving earth, but my parents had to take care of it when I was gone. They had to go through every day without their daughter, their first child. I would be gone. The next few months will be nothing compared to the agony they would experience at my death. She would have to learn to live without me. I couldn't imagine what it would be like if I lost my mother. There would be so many experiences we wouldn't get and so many questions not asked. So, if I was leaving them, what would they miss?
My mom would never get to make me up before my wedding and my dad would never walk me down the isle. Their wouldn't be any grand baby's aside from my brother, and absolutely no pregnancy my mom could give tips on. She would never help me move into my first college dorm. We would never do any of these things.
My story was already written. The majority of the stories I would make and the growth I would experience was over and there wouldn't be many left. Maybe I would grow as a person, but I would be too sick to make any new stories.
And that is what made me change my mind.
So, when I went back into that office, I sat down in the chair, and with a steady look I told him I wanted treatment.
My mom started crying, again, when I told her. We immediately started going over the plan I would under go. I would require surgery, to my dismay, and they would remove, hopefully, 99% of the tumor. They would have to completely shave my head for the procedure. A while ago, part of my hair was shaved for a biopsy of my tumors, but it wasn't noticeable when my hair was in a pony tail. Now, I would be completely bald. If all went well, I would then start radiation and chemo. So, my hair wouldn't grow back because of the chemo treatment.
I knew that with my condition, the last thing I needed to worry about was my hair growth, but it seemed so special. Once I was bald, everything would seems so much more real. Every time I would look in the mirror, every time I would reach up to play with my hair, I would be reminded of what I had and what I would go through. With such an ugly disease, it would be nice to feel pretty. I would just like something to keep with me to make the days a little brighter, no matter how shallow it is.
