Raf

Chapter 1.5

After being picked and prodded at for the majority of the day, I ate dinner with my family at home that evening. My family consisted of my mother, my uncle, and I.My parents divorced when I was roughly 9 years old, and my dad was given custody of Spencer, my younger brother. Neither Dad nor Spencer knew about my health problems, and they never will. I am allowed to call Spencer once a month, but I never got to know him that well, so I tended to skip months sometimes. Uncle Daren moved in with us the year after the divorce- a few days after his wife committed suicide. He was grief-stricken and had nowhere to go to be with people, so we welcomed him into our home. He’s my mother’s brother, and has been more of a father figure to me than an uncle.

              As for my mother, well, she’s not that much of a mother anymore. She talks to me like any mom would, she cooks for me, she provides me with living essentials, but she’s lost her touch. She worries more about my safety than her own, and I mean that. She would give anything to trade places with me, and she has a pretty good idea of how painful it is. I’ve memorized the names of doctors and nurses and the dates my specialists got their degrees that are hung up in their offices, the exact dates of certain medical happenings. It has become a huge part of my life, not one I prefer, but inevitably one. I have no doubt she’d handle being me much better than being herself at this time. When I was diagnosed, my mother went into a very poor mental health state. She developed many problems she would’ve never had if I were nonexistent. Sometimes she thinks it’s all her fault that I have cancer. It’s not. It’s cancer’s fault. In fact, I hope cancer gets cancer and dies.

              We used to be a very religious family before everything changed. I am not atheist for this reason. I chose atheism because I believe that if suffering in a hospital was what this God guy laid out for me, he’s either fake or hates me. From what I’ve learned by being in a religious family, option two is impossible. I guess I’m more agnostic, but I prefer to block out the thought that this is how it was all meant to happen for me. I prefer to presume there is nobody upstairs watching this unfold. Uncle Daren and Mother still pray, for me mostly. Sometimes when I’m home I walk in on their prayers inadvertently. Mother seems rather embarrassed when I find her doing it, because of my choice to cut it out of my schedule. Uncle Daren encourages having faith, and always tries to get me to join in.

              That’s mostly all my home life consists of. Sometimes, I log on to my computer. My computer is my life. Other than the television, it is my only window of the world. The first thing I did when I got home on September 8th after eating with Uncle and Mother, was rush to the computer and search things about Raf, Rafael, and miracles. I read countless articles as the hours slid by. Nobody seemed to have an experience quite like mine, although as I clicked on websites I normally wouldn’t, I explored a wide range of theories, mostly unlikely ones.

              Soon enough, it was 1:44 AM, and I shut off my computer, rather displeased with my research. I had the next few days to myself, away from the hospital, so I decided to get an early start with my oversleeping. Peaceful (yet dreamless) nights at home satisfied me somewhat, so I cherished them.

              Being chemically forced to sleep is a different type of sleep than drifting off. Most people won’t get to know that difference, most won’t wish to. To me, naturally falling asleep is a beautiful thing. It feels meant to be, and relaxing. I enjoy real sleep very much. Being put asleep by a group of doctors, by a gaseous substance or a needle, it felt much different. You don’t walk into your bedroom at night hoping things won’t go astray, hoping some fatal emergency won’t occur. For me, that’s much more of a possibility.

              Feeling safe and comfortable, I shut my eyes. I could hear Uncle Daren and Mother chatting quietly, trying not to disturb me. I liked it best this way. Falling asleep to the sound of my mother’s soft, happy voice was the best thing on Earth.      

              One day, when all of this cancer business is history, I will thank Uncle Daren for moving in. Even though it was hardly his choice, I will thank him. Barely anyone was capable of making Mom smile. Daren could make anyone smile, including Mom.

              So as I fell asleep, I imagined the things I would do when I was cancer-free. I imagined all of the opportunities I’d have. I started to think about Raf, and wondered how someone like me could believe in something so silly.

              Honestly though, the more I thought about it and theorized, the less skeptical I was about it. A society in which miracles exist, as long as you’re worthy. Wouldn’t that be nice? Who wouldn’t want to believe in it? If miracles are even real, they would only happen to deserving people. Fighters, people with something to live for. For a moment, I imagined life being just a game, where you have to try and prove you are as meritorious as you think you are. The prize at the end would give you whatever your life needed. Your own personal miracle. I smiled at that for a while, thinking about how it would change everyone’s behaviour. Everyone needs something.

              I repeated that in my mind as I started to fall asleep again. Everyone needs something, everyone needs something, the tiny voice in my head chorused. I yawned wearily, and fell into yet another dreamless sleep, but with a happy expression on my face. Everyone needs something.