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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Wednesday, March 18
My condition is deteriorating; and quickly.
It was only two weeks ago that Blake and I had our date. Since then, everything has been going downhill.
The chemotherapy has made me the sickest I have ever been. Throwing up constantly and barely being able to move without growing nauseous, I haven't been able to think about anything but the pain.
It's a scary feeling; not knowing what your body is feeling and how it responds to the toxic things you're allowing.
There are days when I can't even open my eyes because of the chance the movement makes me sick.
I hate it.
But, I do know that Blake is beside me. He hasn't moved for the past two weeks, with the rare occasion of a quick shower and when my parents force him to eat something.
A couple of days ago; Grant had to drag him to brush his hair because it was starting to get untamed. He seems to only have one focus, and that's me.
Blake's face has molded into a constant state of worry, and he hasn't taken his eyes off me since we returned to the hospital.
He's seen me throw up my body weight in bile and choke on it as it becomes too much for my tired throat.
I know it sounds awful, but he hasn't hesitated to help in any way he can.
The couple of times I have gotten out of bed were to go to the bathroom. That was not pretty to say the least.
Right now, Blake is preparing to help me take my first shower in two weeks. I can't help but feel a bit of embarrassment. This is not what he signed up for, let alone probably not what he wants to do with his life.
"One step at a time," Blake whispers into my ear as he holds both of my hands from behind. We are moving like he's teaching me how to walk, my clammy hands pressing into his palms.
I gently move, my legs at a speed that is probably slower than a sloth on a bad day. I can't help how I move. It feels like I'm not in control of my body.
I hate every second of this.
Once we get to the shower, I almost collapse onto the seat that is set up for me. My breathing is heavy but shallow because I can't for the life of me take one good deep breath.
I'm scared that cancer has moved into my lungs, but I don't want more scans. I don't want to know whether or not I'm getting better because, from the looks of it, it's not going great.
"I'm going to turn on the water now," Blake explains.
I graciously nod and immediately feel warm tricking liquid fall down my exposed back.
I close my eyes and savor the feeling of the hot water encapsulating my entire body.
"Lift your arms for me, baby," His voice is the only thing keeping me upright.
