Cancer.
It's a curse.
It turns people's lives upside down and ruins their relationships.
Brynne Foster is a perfect example.
After being diagnosed with leukemia at age 17, Brynne's family struggles to accept her decision of refusing chemotherapy...
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I kick the powdered sand as I run with Brynne against my chest. Her short spastic breathing reflects off of my neck, causing me to pull her in closer.
"Come on, love, please stay with me," I plead as I sprint down the wooded boardwalk. Her weight feels like nothing to me as I adjust my grip on her body.
Brynne's shirt bleeds into mine, and with every second, more liquid seems to pour from her gushing wound. I look at her face and notice that she's growing pale.
She is losing too much blood.
After almost tripping on a rock, I bring her to the car.
"Brynne? You've got to stay awake," I shake her shoulders and lightly tap her cheeks.
My heart begins to race as I think about losing her tonight.
Her eyes flutter, and she mumbles something incoherent. Her lips move as she tries to make words, but no sounds come out.
I gently lift her shirt to examine the bleeding and find that three of her stitches have ripped.
That's probably from the scuba diving incident earlier.
I knew there was something off about her.
Using my sweatshirt, I create a bandage to try and stop the bleeding. My hands shake as I place them on her wound.
Draping the seatbelt across her body, I make sure that Brynne is stable before climbing into the driver's seat. The nearest hospital is eight minutes from here, so I make it there in four. Running every red light and speeding through the town, I catch the sights of a couple of police officers and law enforcement.
Let them come, I think to myself.
Right now, all that matters is Brynne.
The drive is quick, but she progressively grows weaker by the second. A couple of times, I shake her shoulders to wake her up, and she always just complains that she's exhausted through heavy breathing.
When we reach the emergency room, Brynne is gripping my shirt as I carry her to one of the empty hospital beds.
"Tell Grant that I love him," She gasps.
"You can tell him yourself when we get back," I assure anxiously.
She has to be alright.
"I need a doctor!" I urge the nurses gawking around me, "PLEASE!!"
A lady comes quickly and addresses herself as Dr. Willis.
Her long brown hair and blue eyes shine against her tan skin. She looks pretty young, meaning that this is probably her first or second year practicing medicine.
God, I hope she knows what she's doing.
"Sir, I need you to step outside. She needs someone to fix her stitches and get the bleeding under control," Her urgent voice scares me as I wipe a tear that I didn't know was forming.
