Okay, so i know its been FOREVER since I've updated this, but I've come around. :)))) finally. I hope you enjoy.
Breathe, I tell myself as I walk down the hallway holding Aiden's hand. I need to breathe, feel, anything. It's a foolish cause. Nothing is going to help me now. In three hours I will be receiving my first chemo treatment. I can barely feel the warmth of Aiden's palm as we head toward his friends, Mark, Keith, and Jared, whom I met yesterday at lunch.
"Are you sure you don't want to go sit down?" he asks.
"I'm sure. No reason for me to hole myself up. Better to face the world," I know I'm lying though. Aiden knows. There's no reason for me even to be saying it when no one believes it. It doesn't matter though. As long as we both know the truth is I'm not fine, no matter what I want to try and believe, then everyone's on equal ground.
"Hey," Mark said when we got to them.
I didn't even bother with trying to smile. It was hopeless. "Hey," both Aiden and I say in unison.
Keith says "hey" and Jared simply lets a very small smile tickle his lips, his eyes saying the most. Aiden pulls me down on to the concrete edge of the planter, next to Mark. I can feel myself warming up just because he's touching me, and I cling to it desperately. I need his warmth. I need him to melt the ice that has me coated from top to bottom. I need him more than anything in this entire world.
More than air.
More than water.
More than chemotherapy.
I would take Aiden before any of the above, especially chemo. If I could avoid it, I would. At all costs. I don't want to lose my hair. I don't want to feel the weakness and the faint whiteness that would over take my body.
I had come up with my excuse for not being here tomorrow already. The doctor had told my mom that I could, if wanted to, return to school tomorrow but I had no desire to face anyone here when I was in that kind of a state. It is hard enough to be here now and all that plagues me is shock, fear, and the festering symptoms of my condition.
I was going to Portland with Alanna to file for temporary custody. Alanna being a lawyer liked to make things legal. Which was true, she was filing for temporary custody, but she could, and was, doing that online.
I wish that the stories were real but they are just as namesake goes: stories. I sit in the car during the very short drive to hospital staring out at the rainy window. Tears coat the glass pane, rolling down in decorative patterns that tell tales of suffering and sadness. I don't want to be just another memory on a window. I want to make it through this. I want to be able to throw my cap at graduation and be able to kiss Aiden when all the hats rain back down. I want to be able to wish him a happy birthday when he turns eighteen and to be able to say that I spent the summer beside him.
But you don't usually get what you want. At least not me.
Breathing is a challenge. I don't know my own skin. This strange layer of limp plastic that covers my body cannot be my skin. There is no way. It feels wrong...loose. Fabric is a better word for it. It is nothing but a thin sheath of calico that covers my waning flesh.
Deep breath. Hold it. And release.
I have to tell myself to breathe. Unlike before when the easy in and out of air was automatic, I now find it a chore, something I must exert energy to complete. One breath makes my entire body ache and scream in protest, as if I had done massive amounts of exercise.
As I lay crookedly across my bed I have to wonder if this feeling of weakness will go away. When I left the doctor told me I'd be having chemo again in three weeks. How long does it take to recover from each treatment? Will I be better just in time for the next one?
