The Death of a Year Chapter 2

 

Chapter 2

 

            The first week was the hardest. From the time that we left the hospital, I knew that all of my independence had been stripped away. I was a wall whose paper had been scraped off, nothing but a bare, white skeleton of what was once so much brighter than I had ever even realized. So many things were different that I didn’t know how to begin the acclimation. I had to take medication. I had to start Chemo. Worst of all, I had to try to sleep, even though every time I closed my eyes I thought about how it was going to feel to die. For the first two nights, I slept only in short intervals, forcing myself to wake up every hour or two just to make sure I was still there.  

            Even worse than accepting what was about to happen to me, was accepting the pity that hung in the house like a heavy cloud, permieating every person who walked through the door. The day I came home from the hospital, I was greeted by my grandparents, my Aunt and Uncle, a few cousins I hadn’t seen in at least a year, and even a few people I didn’t really know. They clapped as we walked through the door, as though I was some sort of war hero arriving home after years overseas. They forced smiles, but their eyes were sad. I couldn’t stand it, I laughed out loud. I laughed the entire way up the stairs to my bedroom. I laughed as I slammed the door, but once I was alone, I could feel the sting of tears welling in my eyes.

            My mother insisted that I “take a break” from work and school. She told me it was just until we figured out how we were going to handle the curve ball that we’d just been thrown. I knew that what she really meant was that she wanted me under constant supervision. I was going to be imprisoned in my own home and eventually in my own body. I didn’t know how to protest. The only thing that I could do was agree. 

            I was on a strict regiment of medication and treatment. Even though the doctors gave us little hope that Chemotherapy would cure me, or even stop the progression of the disease, my mother and father all but insisted upon my accepting the fact that I was not going to “give-up”.

            “Honey, we need to get there early, there’s a lot of paperwork to fill out. The doctors said that you should wear loose fitting clothes, so I laid out a pair of sweats and a sweatshirt for you,” my mother said brightly as she went about putting away a stack of folded clothes on my dresser.

            “Don’t do that.”

            “Do what, Honey?” 

            “Don’t put those clothes away. I can do it, I’m not an invalid yet,” I said with a chuckle, knowing that it would upset her.

            She leaned back onto the dresser and sighed. I wasn’t facing her, but I knew exactly what expression was melting across her face, one of defeat. “I really don’t mind doing it,” she said quietly.

            “I really don’t want you to do it, though. I can put away my own clothes, I can even wash my own clothes… and I can also clean my own bathroom, cook my own lunch, if I even want to eat lunch, and I can certainly choose whether or not I want massive amounts of poison pumped into my body, especially when we all know it’s not going to cure me. I’m not doing the Chemo, and I don’t want to talk about it.”   

            “Why are you being so negative?”

            “I can’t understand why I’m the only one who realizes that I’m going to die,” the words stung as they came out of my mouth. I knew I shouldn’t have said the word “die”, not to my mother. She was quiet for a moment before her voice came from behind me in a hoarse whisper.

            “I don’t ever…,” she paused, choking back tears. “Don’t you ever say that word again!”

            “It’s my life, I can talk about myself any way that I want to. If you don’t like it, I could always find someplace else to stay.” I knew that I was being argumentative, unreasonable. I even realized that I was being cruel. Still I couldn’t let myself give in to the fear that my mother obviously harbored. “Mom, I’m sorry. I just… never mind.”

            I could hear her close the door, but I never turned around. I watched the leaves on the trees outside of my bedroom window dance in the autumn breeze. Halloween was just around the corner, and I could see the carved pumpkins on the porch of the house across the street. I remembered how much I loved carving pumpkins when I was little, how much that simple act meant to me. I remembered how, as a child, I never thought about what would happen in a year, five years, ten years, I thought only as far ahead as the next Holiday. The feeling that came over me at that exact moment was something I will never forget. I felt a sense of strength, and even though I would have never imagined it could happen, I think my mother’s optimism was finally starting to rub off on me. I had to attack my disease as a child attacks life. I had to stop looking so far ahead and simply enjoy the little things that were happening all around me, all of the time.

            I could hear my mother and father in the hallway outside of my bedroom. She was crying and he was trying to comfort her. I got off the bed and walked to the door, feeling better than I had felt in a long time. I opened it slowly and watched my parents. I was so thankful that they had each other. My father looked so strong holding my mother, and she looked so fragile. As I watched them, the years seemed to melt away, and I was standing before a nineteen year old man holding his eighteen year old girlfriend for the first time. They were both so beautiful, so in love. I knew how much they wanted a child, how happy they were when I was born. I felt horrible for what I was doing to them. They didn’t deserve to have this happen any more than I did. If I had any doubt about what I needed to do before that moment, it was washed away. I realized I wasn’t the only person suffering, my pain was magnified within them, and I had to do everything I could to protect them from that pain.    

            “She won’t go, I can’t even reason with her…” My mother sobbed into my father’s shoulder.

            I took a deep breath before speaking, “Mom, Dad, let me grab my jacket and I’ll be ready to go.”

                Walking out the door that day, the air seemed crisper than it had been the day before. As I looked up at the sky, I thought of a hundred ways to describe how beautiful the blue was. I wanted to write about the way that the trees looked as though they were set on fire by the sunshine. I felt the need to create, the longing to make something that would be around even after I was gone. There’s plenty of time, I thought to myself. But was there really plenty of time left? How would I know if the words would come when I needed them to? The questions began to outnumber the ideas that had been blooming in my head. I did the only thing that I could do; I pushed back the worry and the fear. I forced myself to move forward even though the only thing I really wanted to do was stay in that moment forever.

Reviews

[bluessadmood]

oh yes everything is stripped away from ,independence,its lost,then dreams just forget them ,your name what an irony ,its never hope again ,yes be cruel on yourself ,realize the fact that you will die so make the best of it,but is it long enough even for a short dream to come true ,always the question is it long enough,oh dear i could imagine those creatures who gave you life and were so happy with you now all misery ,they gave you life ,but some one else taking it ,and for no reason so do the best you can the ,the most you can grab out of what is left,be a worrier for still she ,life,is so happy sending you lying in bed and crying your bad luck ,no you have to fight ,you make fun of her ,you do something she never expected from you ,just live your life like nothing really happened ,like there is a small change of plans,like the plane you are catching has changed schedule,and so should you ,fight please fight not just for you ,but for me and others ,yes lets us laugh at life the wicked witch she is

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Yep, I need to edit the other review for chapter three.... all in due time.
There are many parts about this section that I think are amazing. The mother/daughter spat for one. I think all the emotions, all the fear and anger and worry that comes with a medical tragedy like this are usually expressed only from the sufferer's point of view in most stories. A lot of times, I've noticed, the author makes little inclusion of the people around the sufferer, or afflicted. It's kind of an order of things, that if the child suffers, the parents suffer as well. Most times, the parents are portrayed as strong, pillars of strength of which there is no faltering, no doubt in optimism. But in reality, it's often the opposite. The parents need reassurance, they need strength, and I think this chapter really shows that well. You show the weakness through anger which is the easiest of all emotional outlets that people use when they're scared to death of something like this, and I like how you've included that here.

Subsequently, the description of the father holding the mother in the hallway is another keen moment. There is little to this moment, but it's powerful nonetheless because it's realistic, and even romantic. Drawing strength and comfort off one another as if they were infinite springs of reassurance. I think that shows a lot about the joys of being married. Having that support when you need it the most.

I like the little detail about the pumpkin that she can see at her neighbor's house from her window. When you think about it, it's just a small detail, something that she just happens to see, but it recalls all the memories of her past Halloweens, and the happiness that Hope felt by carving her own, and through that memory, she was able to find this strength that she so desperately needed. I guess in simple terms, the small detail of the pumpkin was a good segway, a good transition to use in order to transfer Hope from despair into power, the desire to fight her fears and beat the tumor. It was very smooth, almost subtle.

"I was a wall whose paper had been scraped off, nothing but a bare, white skeleton of what was once so much brighter than I had ever even realized." - this is cool. I have no other word to describe this. It's cool.