No Matter What (A Nash Grier Story)

Balloon

When I went to the doctor's for my weekly check-up tied in with my Chemotherapy session, I received news that broke my heart. They told me that I wasn't responding to treatment. But that wasn't the worst of it. They told me they thought I would have about 8 months to live. I felt like a balloon. Everything that was happening to me was like there was more and more air being blown into me until it got to the point where I was too full. I popped. It frustrates me to think that there can be a timer set on life. You can't just wind up the dial and then listen to the clicks as it ticks down, until finally you hear the "ding" and it's done. That's not what life is, and that's not what life's supposed to be. Life should be defined as a mystery, where you can never really know what happens next. People always look on those stupid websites to find the technological date of their death. They think they want to know their expiration date, but truthfully, it's one of the scariest things in the world. Fear is being scared of the unknown. If you think about it, why would you be scared of the unknown? What is it about the unknown that causes fear? The answer is death. People are so scared of dying that they fear it with everything. If you don't "fear" death, then it's not fear. No one wants to know how long they have to live. I know it from experience. You start counting months, and days, and then even minutes. Your life goes from a puzzle, to a calender, dating out the rest of your time. The great part about life is that it's mystery and you don't truly know what comes next, but knowing when you die, is like knowing the end of a movie.

What I had been fighting for so long, that has taken every inch of my strength, the thing that has stolen everything from me, has finally won. I felt defeated, I was defeated. How could I tell the people I loved? "Oh and by the way, in about 8 months you're going to see me turn blue in the face and gasp for air and there's nothing you can do about it to save me. You're going to watch me struggle to hold on and then finally become too weak to do so. You'll see my dignity fly out the window. I'm going to leave this earth before my college graduation, or my walk down the aisle in a white dress, or the day I have a baby boy or girl, or the day I watch them graduate or walk down the aisle. I will leave human existence before you even get the chance to accept that life is unfair way too often, and people get hurt way too much. So you better soak in these last 8 months, because they're going to fly by fast, and soon I won't be here anymore."

Impossible. I was so mad at everything. Mad at myself for letting myself get sick. Mad at the doctors for not getting me well. Mad at my family and friends and Nash for not being able to help me. I. Am. Hopeless.

*****

The next day I told Nash. I knocked on his door, and then sat with him on his porch swing. I looked into those blue eyes that everyone couldn't help but fall in love with. I ran my hands through his soft, thick hair. This wasn't going to be mine forever. I wasn't going to be able to marry him, or have blue-eyed babies with him. He looked at me odd when he noticed how I was acting. I looked down at my hands that now rested in my lap.

"Nash, I don't really know how to say this. I don't even understand it myself, but when I went to the doctors yesterday, they told me that I wasn't responding to treatment."

He head dropped with his chin to his chest. A breath of air was released from his mouth.

"They told me I had eight months to live," I choked out as a tear rolled down my cheek. He looked back up at me. He shook his head no. He just kept shaking his head no. Speechless. His large hands grabbed my jaw and brought me in close.

"No," is all he could manage to say. Tears had started to roll down his own cheeks. "Stop lying, this isn't funny," whispered grabbing me into a tight hug. I just nodded my head yes, and hugged him back. The tears crowded my eyes, and a knot swelled in my throat.

"Olivia."