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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Thursday, February 9th
2 Weeks Later
"Name and date of birth, please."
I sigh and run my fingers through the disheveled state of my hair as my elbows rest on the counter.
After a long day of school and paperwork, my head is pounding, and I can't seem to think straight from all the noise.
"Come on, Rhonda. Don't you know all that by now?" I speak frustratedly.
The hustle and bustle of the hospital lobby are louder than usual, making the check-in desk over-occupied.
The lady behind me seems to have her hands full with two toddlers in each of her arms and a stroller set in front of her. Most of the noise in the lobby is coming from the baby in the stroller, and its screeching is getting hard to bear. My attention gravitates towards her husband who is staring into the small screen of his latest iPhone, completely oblivious to his own kid's cries.
I scoff at the sight and return my attention to the lady at the front desk whom I have grown very annoyed.
"I know sir, but I need to make sure that you are allowed to visit the chemotherapy wing of the hospital."
I sigh and tell her my full name and date of birth, and show her my ID.
After a long and awful printer malfunction, she hands me a red sticker that says "GUEST" on it, and I begin to make my way to the elevator.
My strides are long, and my breaths shallow as I tap my foot on the firm tiling in the small room.
The stench of sanitizer and alcohol reaches my nostrils and immediately disorients my sight and smell.
I will never get used to that god-awful sensation.
The elevator dings and I anticipate the doors opening on the fifth floor.
The brightly colored sign in front of Brynne's room is hard to miss. It contains notes from her close friends and family, things that have not yet been processed or cleared for infections that could potentially harm her.
From the looks of it, she has a lot of friends who care about her.
As I arrive at the door, I notice that the blinds are closed and the lights are off.
She must be sleeping, I think to myself.
She's been doing a lot of that lately. For almost two weeks, she has slept throughout the entire day and only woken up until seven at night.
The only reason I hate this is because visiting hours close at eight, so that means I only have an hour to talk to her.
The rest of the time, I watch her sleep, which isn't so bad. It calms me to know that she is peaceful.
