People say that death is the worst thing that can happen to a person. But to me, especially given recent events, that statement couldn't be more wrong.

Right now, life if the worst thing that ever happened to me. It's been a struggle since day one, and I've had to fight to get to where I am now, every inch of the way. I never asked to exist, and if I'd known what was ahead I certainly would've passed on the chance to.

What are we before life? Stars in the universe? A grain of sand on the beach of non-existence in some Galaxy far away? All I know is that it must be easier to never exist in the first place. There's no worrying about the people around you, no tragedy, and certainly no brain tumors.

Just like Freddy Mercury said, sometimes I wish I'd never been born at all. Right now is one of those times.

The last few days have been the worst of my life so far. Moonsie's been admitted to the hospital, and the surgery is scheduled for tomorrow at noon. Will is always so positive, constantly telling me that everything's gonna be ok, and that Moonsie will pull through, but I'm not stupid.

I've done my research, and nobody's ever successfully removed a tumor of this size and magnitude. It's over, and it's a pipe dream to even think for a moment that the surgery would work, but I don't tell that to Moonsie or Will. I just nod and pretend that everything will be ok.

I believe in Will, but I know that this surgery is beyond even his amazing capabilities, beyond anyone's reach as a surgeon. I'm not gonna spend time hoping and praying for an unobtainable wish.

I let out a sigh as I turn off the lamp on Will's desk. He lets me do my charting in his office because he knows how much I like his cushioned swivel chair. He swings into the room right as I'm leaving, offering yet another 'dazzling' smile. I'm not in the mood for it, especially since Michael is yet again being indifferent towards me. You'd think in these times, he'd be just a little more considerate. Shows how much of an ass he is. We didn't even get a chance to discuss what the hell his problem was for the majority of November.

"You ready for tomorrow?" He asks, standing tall and confident. I wish I could mirror his strength, but I don't have it in me at the moment. "No." I answer simply, and his smile falters a little.

"Come on now. I know you're scared, but... we're two great surgeons. We can accomplish great things." I shrug, setting the charts down on the desk again. "I'm just trying not to get my hopes up. I checked in on your spinal stenosis case and your meningioma, both charts are updated."

"You can't go into surgery feeling this negative," He half whispers, ignoring my update. "I'm gonna go say goodnight to my mother. I'll... be here tomorrow at noon." He nods once. "Perk up."

I walk down to Moonsie's room, where she's all settled in for the night, entertaining herself with Redbook magazines. "Hello."

"Oh, Skipper! There you are dear. Did you need me to tuck you into bed?" So I guess I'm a little kid today in her mind. "Yeah." I whisper, trying to swallow past the growing lump in my throat. "Come here then," She grins at me, scooting over to one side of her measly hospital bed.

I slide in beside her, and lay my head on her shoulder. "Do you want me to sing?" My father always did that for me when I was a little girl, I assume she's revisiting that time. "Sure." I whisper again. I let my eyes fall closed as she sings a lullaby in a sweet voice. Her fingers rake through my hair gently as I breathe in her motherly smell. I have to have this last moment with her, the last night before she goes. I have to savor every last waking moment before her time in this world has run out.

I'm gonna miss having a family.

****

It's funny how time works. When you have something good planned for a certain time of day, time seems to drag it's feet slowly, like it's trying to swim to the other side of a pool filled with hot caramel.

Whenever you've got something unpleasant to do, time seems to be experiencing an adrenaline rush, speeding along until you've only got moments left before it's time to complete said unpleasant task.

Right now, the said unpleasant task is attempting at removing an unnaturally large and inoperable tumor from my mother's brain. The surgery professor drones on, and my eyes drift between him, Michael beside me, and the clock. It strikes 11:30, and it's time. The morning seems to have rushed by. I have been unable to even begin to sort my feelings out over this, and I guess I don't have time now.

I stand abruptly, my breath hitching in my throat. Michael looks up at me grimly, making eye contact for the first time in a few days. The professor looks at me. "Miss Nelson. Is there something you need?" "I have to leave." I tell him, and he raises his eyebrows. "And why is that?"

"I have to remove a tumor from my mother's brain." The whole class gasps, all heads turning towards me. "I mean, I have a surgery." I mutter, turning away from Michael. When I begin to gather my things, nobody stops me.

I hear him follow me out of the classroom, but I don't bother saying anything or stopping for him. "Skip," He groans, and his footsteps cease. "What?" I snap, turning quickly on my heel to look at him. His face is pulled down into a sad frown, his eyes are wide and remorseful.

"I'm... gonna stay for class, but... I'll be there for you when you get out. Of surgery. I... imagine you'll need me." Michael is considering the feelings of someone other than himself? Next thing you know pigs will start falling from the sky.

"Oh... um... ok." I'm caught completely off guard when he pulls me into him by the waist, planting a single warm kiss on my lips. It's one of the most intimate moments we've ever shared, and I almost melt when he pulls away. "Don't underestimate yourself, alright?" He whispers, his mouth brushing mine as he speaks. "Yeah."

He turns quickly and disappears back into the classroom.

****

"Opening the skull flap." I mutter, making an incision into Moonsie's scalp. So many things are weighing on my shoulders. Big Mary, my mother's boss, and many other people from the diner have made their way here for the big surgery. How they found out about it? In a moment of lucidity, Moonsie called them here. To me, they're just more pairs of eyes watching me, hoping that I can pull off a miracle.

Her eyes were so wide as I shaved her head to prep her for surgery. Her hair was different than mine, puffy, but it was beautiful. It was sad shaving her. It was sad putting her under amnesia, hearing her last words to me.... But now, I can't feel any more emotion. It's like there's a ball of peanut butter in my throat, and no matter how hard I try I can feel or swallow past it.

Will was going to close the gallery so nobody could watch the surgery, but I didn't let him. It doesn't matter that this is my mother, it's a great learning experience that nobody should be exempt from.

Will and I work together until we reach the Dura matter- the meat of the brain. "And... there she is. The mother of all tumors." Will murmurs, looking up at the gallery. "Take a look at this, kiddies, this is the only tumor of this caliber you'll be seeing in your measly and useless lifetimes." Sometimes I forget that he hates the other students. Wake up-call I guess. The tumor is white, pulsing slightly under my touch. I should hate the tumor, but I don't. It fascinates me.

"Now, we'll begin the resect the tumor, separate malignant tissue from brain tissue." Will announces. "Scalpel." I mutter to the scrub nurse, and dig into the flesh.

Hours pass, hours and hours with Moonsie open on the table. We keep running into dead ends, nerves we can't resect around, finding new angles, and then running right back into nerves we can't get around.

Wiping the sweat from my brow, I drop my scalpel in the container next to the table. "This is pointless, Will." I snap, rolling my head around in circles to alleviate the pain in it. My back muscles are tense, my feet are gonna fall off, and If I don't get a drink of water soon I'm going to die. 8 hours have passed, and nothing's going to come of this.

"So what do you suppose we do next?" Will asks calmly, pulling his hands out of the surgical field. His scrub cap has little music notes on it. I don't know why I'm paying attention to this, with my mother's cancer-riddled brain being open beside me on the table.

"If you were smart you never would've taken this surgery in the first place." I mutter angrily, off to the side. "What do you suppose we do next?" He says more assertively, ignoring my comment.

"I don't know, Will! Close her up!" I burst, letting my head sag. "Junior-" "Just stop, alright! Stop! I'm so done with your freaking positivity! This tumor is impossible! I know that, and you certainly know that, so you're stupid for taking this on!"

Everyone in the room is silent, including Will. I hear a few gasps in the gallery, they probably think I'm gonna get my head cut off for talking to him this way, but I don't care. I'm so done.

He takes a deep breath. "This is your mother open on the table right now. Calling me stupid isn't helping cure her illness. Now do you want to have a god damned tantrum in my OR, or do you want to save your mother?" He chooses his words very carefully, but I don't detect anger in his voice.

I don't answer, picking up my scalpel to work again.

****

Rapid beeping from the monitors scares me out of my mindless cutting daze. We've worked into a solid rhythm now, work, cut, dead end, new angle, work, cut, dead end, and so on.

"Her pressure's plummeting, SATS are unstable, Blood Pressure is in the 40's," A nurse informs us. "What's going on?" I ask frantically, looking to Will for an answer. "Its her sodium levels, they're low. Her body's producing extra urine from the stress on the body from the surgery, and she's practically out of salt, we need to push emergency saline salt solution immediately, Junior?" Will indicates for me to make the call.

"Alright, she's around 130 pounds so push 200 cc's of saline solution." I tell the young nurse standing next to the table. I hear the squeak of the liquid being pushed through the tube into Moonsie's IV.

"Alright, I pushed 2,000 cc's," She tells me, and my eyes widen. "What?! 2,000?" Will's head drops. "Oh no."

The world blurs. It blurs together like overflowing paint mixing together on a piece of paper. I can't think, I can't breathe. I can only hear the sound of the monitor beeping, beeping, then flat lining. The world is white noise, I can just make out the words Will is yelling at the nurse.

"Are you an idiot! 2,000 ccs of salt! That will fry her damn brain, along with the other organs!" "I'm sorry, I heard 2,000 I just-" "You just killed this girl's mother."

I'm not listening though. My mind is like a lump of clay, cold, moist, and useless. I can at least figure out that I need to perform CPR on her. Will helps me, ventilating her manually as I pump down over and over on Moonsie's chest. I mutter to myself, willing her heart to start pumping again.

Minutes pass, and I can't think clearly. My body has also turned into a cold lump of clay, unfeeling, unthinking. All I can do is pump my mother's chest. Over and over.

"Call it." Will says for the tenth time. I can't feel my face, or my hands, or her heart beating. I can hear the sobs of the nurse, I can hear the silence of the gallery, I can hear the monitor indicating asystole.

"Junior, call it." Will whispers. My body jolts to a halt, my head snapping to the side to look at him. The clock indicates that she's been down for 35 minutes, and I've been pumping for that long. His gown is stained with her blood, his mask hanging around his neck in defeat.

I look around the room, expressionless. Every pair of eyes is staring at me, waiting for me to break down and cry. Instead, I remove my hands from Moonsie's chest.

"Time of death... 22:45." I mutter, removing my gloves as push the OR door open. I couldn't breathe in that room, not around all that death. I speed quickly towards the lobby, where Big Mary and the rest of Moonsie's party is waiting. My first instinct is to inform them of what's happened.

"Junior!" Will calls, running after me. His hand rests on my shoulder, and I turn quickly. "What is it?" I ask gently, and his eyebrows raise. "Um... I'm so sorry. I'm... so fucking sorry... It's the nurse's fault for giving her 2,000 cc's of salt... who does that, I mean... are you alright?" His eyes are clouded with grief, his shoulders sagging with sadness. "I'm fine." I answer, turning back to the lobby.

Truth is, I can't feel a thing. I knew this was going to happen, and I expected some emotion, but nothing comes to me. Not sadness, grief, not even tears. I feel nothing. I don't even feel my tired muscles anymore.

Maybe this is better than never having been born at all.

I walk past the sleeping Michael, who's slumped over a few chairs, to Big Mary and the rest of the gang from the diner back home.

Big Mary stands, looking at me. I guess my face doesn't give anything away, because he questions me, taking a step closer. "What happened, how'd it go?"

"There was an accident." I begin. That sets them all off, Big Mary clutching my shoulders as the rest of the waitresses from the diner begin crying violently. I watch as they clutch each other's shoulders, like this is the worst news they've ever heard in their lives. Whatever.

"There was an accident, and she did not make it through the surgery. I am sorry." I conclude. Will runs up beside me. "We've got a pulse!"

"What?" I stutter, backing away slowly. I keep backing away, slowly, as he explains. She's comatose, but they have a pulse. She's comatose.

They've plugged her up to a life support machine. So for now, she's alive, the machine is breathing for her. I watch the relief spread across everyone's face, sad sobs turning into happy tears.

I turn and speed away quickly, before anyone can talk to me.

She's alive.

For now.

Hello Loves! I hope you enjoyed this chapter:) There's more to come soon! I still have a goal of 20 votes, so if you could help me there, that'd be great:) Comments are also smiled upon!!! ILY!!