Neurosis

Five different people. Five different problems.

Ch.3  Aaron -16-

I have a 33 percent chance I'll live.  That's what the doc said.  That's not too bad.  I've survived a 21 percent chance to live.  Surgery is just surgey.  You either die in your sleep because it'll most likely be too painful for you to undergo it awake, or you wake up and another problem slaps you across the face.  I'm wondering if the stem cell transport will kill me.  Unless the leukemia kills me first.  I guess I should consider myself lucky though, I mean they didn't think I'd live to be sixteen and here I am.  Yes, I'm bald and yes, I'm in and out of the hospital all the time, but I'm still here.  People say that's all that counts, but I'm wondering if they just say that to make me feel better.  It doesn't make me feel better.  I'm just as confused.

I know how this will go down.  My mom will get all excited and tell me there's a match and right before I go into surgery, she'll break down and ask me if I'm sure I want to do it, am I sure if I can handle it, am I feeling a little sick becuase I can change my mind anytime [yeah, like right as they're pulling out a bone or replacing my blood cells], or how about this one:  It's not worth it, we can work this out with the doctor.  I don't know about the next guy, but I'm pretty sure surviving is worth it. 

Sometimes I found humor in cancer.  I woke up in the middle of surgery one time and the guys told me to try to relax and go back to sleep [yeah, with blood spurting everywhere, I'm sure to sleep like a baby].  I decided to f**k with them.

"You know guys, I'm not sure how I feel about this "living" thing...I'm a little uncomfortable, can I retake this some other time?  Will Friday work?  Saturday, I have violen lessons and Monday, my mom is taking my sister to the mall and I can't really drive becuase I got my license taken away and..."

I think they thought I was crazy.  I'm always annoying them with my smartass s**t.  It's okay, only about 67% don't survive anyway and I'm most likely to be part of that percentage so they don't have to deal with me anymore.  So then I don't have to deal with their s**t anymore.  Maybe it's just not worth it anymore.  Maybe I'm just tired of missing school and not being able to have alot of friends and everyday I have to wonder whether I'll ever find love in life.  But who would want to date a cancerous, bald kid whose face is so pale he's practically translucent? Because I always have to worry if I'm going to have a seizure or if I'll be coughing up blood tonight.  I'm tired of doing that.  Sometimes I just get tired.

"Aaron Carmen?" a nurse called me.

I raised my hand.

She smiled and gestured for me to follow her.  It's time.  I could come out alive [not sure I really want that] or I can sleep for as long as I like.  Let's aproximate...uh, how about the rest of eternity?  I think I mentioned I was an intelligent young lad.  I didn't even need a calculator.

I closed the door behind me.  Not really sure what would go down but this is how it works.  I've done this before, I want to tell my mom.  But she's still worried, I can tell.  This is how it works.

I know somehow in the back of my mind, something was nagging me, because I wasn't really sure if I was talking about the surgery or life, itself.  I guess I'll find out.  And just so you know, 33 is my lucky number.