A/N: A little short story I wrote. Enjoy!

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Wednesday, 12 May 2013

Dear Diary,

A couple hours ago, you were given to me by that kind nurse that always sneaks me a cookie for my meals.  She's really nice, and pretty too.  She probably has a boyfriend and spends lots of time with her friends when she's not taking care of people like me.  She called you a "journal" and told me to write down my thoughts every couple of days or so when she handed you to me.  At first, I found that weird.  Why would you want to write things down? Just seems tiring for my hand and wrist.  There's also the problem of me being too tired and/or weak to even pick up a pencil after having chemo.  When I voiced my concerns, however, she told me that it could be something that I could look back to when I'm in remission from my cancer.  To be downright honest, I laughed at her when she said that.  Me? Be in remission?  Complete remission? I don't think I'll ever see the day.  I definitely won't live to see the day.

Still, despite my protests, she told me to "think positive" and urged me to write.  She looked so pleading, and she had been so nice to me the entire time I've been in this stupid hospital, so how could I say no? So, here I am, writing my first entry before I go into yet another session of chemotherapy.  As I write this, I've been wondering what I should be writing in here that I want to look back at.  I guess, if this is going to become something that my mom or dad will keep and look back at when I'm gone, the first thing I want to write in here is that I love my parents very much, and I truly hope that they can get past grieving for me.  I hope that Mom will take those cooking classes she's always wanted to take but couldn't because of me, and I hope that Dad will fix that dent that I accidentally made all those years ago.  I still feel kind of guilty about that, even though it's been 3 years.  I wonder, if I hadn't been diagnosed with lung cancer, would he be mad at me for it?  He did always treat that silver Lexus like it was his baby.  If you're reading this Dad, don't worry about feeling guilty about loving it as much as you do me, because it was always quite amusing, if not funny, how much you loved that car.  I've always tried to make you tell me about it, but you always dodged the topic?  Ah, I guess it doesn't matter now.

You know, I'm not sure about what my parents remember and don't, but I remember those years when I was still unaware of the cancer infecting my lungs.  I wonder if you remember the time we went down to that lake.  I wonder if they still remember how freezing it was and how I got a cold afterwards.  I remember how much fun I had, being in my pink polka-dot swimsuit and ganging up on Mom with Dad to make her wet when she said that she didn't want to go into the water.  Yeah, that's been one of my favorite memories of us being together as a family.  If I had to add to the list of guilt that I have riding on my shoulders, I'd have to add that I've always felt so bad that it's because of me, my parents have to pay for my treatment.  I know they are doing it because they love me and want me to get better, but I feel like they've been putting all the money from their paychecks into my treatment.  I'm not sure if they've realized, but I've noticed that they always look pale when they come to visit me.  I'm not sure whether that's because they spoke with my doctor or because they haven't been eating correctly, but if it's the latter and they're reading this right now, then I'm telling you guys right now that you both should take proper care of yourselves!  If you're really reading this, then that means I've passed, and Mom, I can't be there to remind you to put down your reading book at 10:00 in the night, and I can't be there to put the blanket over you anymore Dad.

To be quite honest, I'm scared of death.  I'm not sure whether I believe Mom when she says that people go to a better place when they die, or if I believe Dad, who says that you get reborn as a new person when you die.  Either way, I guess I'm going to find out soon aren't I? 

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Thursday, 19 May 2013

Dear Diary,

I can't believe it.  I seriously cannot.  The doctor said that there was a way to get the cancer out of my body!  Oh my gosh, my hands are shaking with shock and excitement as I write this!  After a week of believing I was going to die, I'll be able to get better!  I might be able to be in remission!  If the surgery's successful, I'll be able to play catch with Dad again and go jogging with Mom once more!  This is unbelievable!!  And, the best part is I'm going to get it tomorrow!!

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Saturday, 21 May 2013

Dear Diary,

I've just woken up from the surgery.  My stomach feels really sore and it's hard to sit up without help.  Every time I tried to, it feels like that time I tried too hard during my curl-up test at school and almost passed out during P.E.  Luckily, the nurse who gave me this "journal" from the beginning was there when I woke up.  She left to get me a glass of water, but she helped me sit up.  You were right there as well as a pencil on the nightstand next to my bed, so I decided to write more about how I feel at the moment, so that I can "look back at it later."  The first thing I feel that stands out is that I feel weak, well, weaker than usual.  Now, I'm not sure whether that's because of the anesthesia or because of the surgery, or maybe it's both, but the nurse told me that I should get some rest no matter what the answer to my question was.  She'll probably scold me for writing in this book when she comes back, but I could always tell her that it was her idea to write in here.  For now, the first thought in my head is if the surgery was successful or not.  I mean, sure I'm alive and that's a good sign, but that doesn't mean that it was a success.  I find myself slowing building up with dread, because I can see Mom and Dad's silhouette with who I assume to be my doctor on the large window in my hospital's room.  Unfortunately, I can't see or hear them because the curtains were blocking my view.  I bet they're talking about how my surgery went.  I'm not 100% sure if it went well, but I sure hope so.  Unfortunately, I have to wait until I can put my anxiety to ease.

~~~~~

Monday, 23 May 2013

Dear Diary,

I was told my surgery was a success!  Mom and Dad were sobbing so hard and they hugged me so tight.  I myself was crying too, but I have a right too!  It's been so long since I've had hope, so long since I've been told something other than "I'm sorry." Just a week and a half ago, I was writing silly wills and memoirs and acting like I was prepared to die.  Who is ever prepared to die? I certainly was not, and now I never have to think about dying until I'm old and married!  Today, my doctor told me that in a month or so, I'll be able to go home.  He told me that I'll even be able to go back to playing soccer!!  I never thought I'd be able to do such a thing, even if I didn't think I'd die!!!  Oh my gosh, this is all so exciting!!

~~~~~

Thursday, 25 May 2013

Dear Diary,

I wasn't able to write in you yesterday or the day before because I just started maintenance therapy!  It's way better than chemotherapy because I only have to take a pill instead of inserting fluids directly into my body.  I still feel a little pain and fatigue sometimes, but the doctor says that's to be expected.  Mom and Dad are packing my stuff as I write, and they're refurnishing my old bedroom!  I can't wait to see it when I go home in a few days.

~~~~~

Friday, 16 May 2013

Dear Diary,

I'm writing right now to distract myself from the aching pain I feel, well, everywhere.  Everything hurts, and I don't know why.  It's getting hard to breathe, and every breath I am able to take feels like I'm breathing in fire and it's burning my chest.  No one's here, probably because it's around 3:00 in the morning, but I want help.  However, I'm scared to scream for help.  Every part in my body is aching, but I don't want to shout for help and selfishly wake up people in rooms near me that are sleeping.  I'm able to write in here, so it's not that bad right?  I was able to reach my hand out to pick you and your pencil buddy up.  Maybe if I wait and continue writing in here, the pain will subside.  If someone were to ask me to rate my pain, I'd probably say it's a 6, so I guess I can wait it out by distracting myself with writing words.  Yeah, I don't need help.  The doctor said I could get temporary moments of pain like this.  I checked the equipment next to me, and although I'm not a technician or a doctor, everything seemed to be working fine, though, my ears feel blocked and the beeping sounds of the machinery sounds muffled.

By now, I'm starting to get reallysleepy.  I can tell because the cornersof my eyes are starting to go black, and my handwriting's gettingsloppier.  I'm probably messing upspelling by now too.  The pain is stilllingering, but it's okay to go to sleep right?  It should be right? Yeah, I think so.