AllFreeNovel
Share Us
16
MEGAN
“You’re all set, Megan. Let me know if you need anything,” Janice, my nurse, says to me with a small smile.
“Thank you.” I sit back in the leather reclining chair, wishing I could sit on the couch at home instead of this thing. I grab my book off the table next to me and begin reading the fantasy novel I brought to keep myself occupied. Books have always been an escape, but recently, they’ve become the only thing able to get my mind off of the serious turn my life has taken.
The week before school started, I had my first check-up with the doctor. Unfortunately, the news was worse than what we were ready to hear.
The cancer is back and has spread to my other ovary and uterus.
Instead of doing an immediate hysterectomy since I’m so young, the doctor wanted to try chemotherapy to shrink the tumor. I’m on week three of my treatment. I have one more to go before they run the tests to see how things look. So far, I’ve been extremely tired, have headaches, and my hair is thinning out.
The minimal symptoms have allowed me to hide what’s going on from my friends. After their reaction to the surgery, I couldn’t bring myself to tell them it was back with a vengeance. The only people who know are my parents.
My friends don’t need to worry about me until there’s truly something to worry about. Plus, I don’t want them to treat me differently. I want to enjoy our time together without having this dark cloud lurking over our heads any time we hang out.
“How are you?” Janice asks as she makes her rounds back to my chair.
“Okay, considering.”
“You’ll be done in a few, so hang tight, dear.”
I nod my head, looking around the room. Only four of the eight chairs are occupied, including mine. I dread when there are other people in the treatment room when I show up. The minute I walk in, they look at me with so much pity in their eyes, it’s annoying. It always says the same thing, too. Oh, that poor girl, she’s so young. I can’t stand it.
Yeah, no shit, I’m young. I don’t want to be here any more than you do. And your pity isn’t going to magically make me better. It’s one of the many reasons why I don’t want to tell anyone what’s going on until I have to.
I shake my head in an attempt to stop the negative spiral. I focus on Janice helping one of the ladies out of her chair when she’s finished with her treatment. I’m ready to go home. I have a bunch of homework to catch up on, and I refuse to let cancer be my reason for not getting good grades.
When I’m finally done, Janice helps me pack up my things to head home. I call Mom to tell her she can pick me up now, then head out to the lobby to wait.
I hope they have good news for me next week. I’m tired of living in this constant state of negative news. Not having a light at the end of the tunnel has been brutal.
* * *
I shift in my chair,waiting for Dr. Robins to give me the news. After another week of lying to my friends, I’m at the end of my rope. I need some good news, a better reason to continue my lie of omission.
Since the first scan, I’ve been trying to pretend like this is fine. Like it’s not a big deal if I say it’s not. But after suppressing my emotions for weeks, my body is stretched tighter than a rubber band. There’s a good chance I’m going to snap in half, and my parents will have to collect the pieces from the floor.
“Megan, I’m ready for you.” Dr. Robins says. I quickly stand, my parents following close behind me. We step into the familiar office, sitting down in the visitor chairs. Dad stands behind Mom and me, a steadying hand on our shoulders.
Dr. Robins sits down, opening my chart. “It seems like the tumors have gotten smaller, just not quite as much as we were hoping.”
A huge breath falls out of my mouth as his words sink in. “Smaller is good, right?”
“Yes, however, I’ll caution any celebrating. They aren’t much smaller. I suggest we increase the intensity of your current treatment plan. It seems to be working, just not quite as well as we need it to work.”
“And what symptoms can we expect from the increase?” Mom asks.
“It’s likely she’ll experience more severe symptoms than what she is currently. Potentially a few new ones. It’s hard to say for sure.”
The small sliver of good news has now been doused in gasoline and set on fire. Apparently, only good news was too much to ask for.
Defeat, exhaustion, and just straight sorrow envelop me as I sit there, listening to my parents continue discussing my treatment. They begin to sound like the teacher from Charlie Brown, their voices blending together into one monotonous tone. I can’t stand it anymore.
Unable to continue sitting there, I stand, walking out of the room without a single word. I walk as fast as I can out of the hospital and to the parking lot where Mom’s car is located.
I pace across the asphalt, willing my racing heart to slow. The panic is overwhelming, building higher until it’s the only thing I can feel. Tears blur my vision, forcing me to stand still or risk walking into a car.
I fucking hate this.
I hate being sick.
I hate being pitied.
Everything I’ve ever wanted is blowing up in my face. Shattering my future into so many pieces I’ll never be able to bring them all back together again. What was supposed to be the best year of my life has turned into a nightmare of epic proportions. I’m about to lose not only my dreams but potentially my life as the cancer continues to wreak havoc in my body.
Why is this happening to me?
What did I do to deserve this?
With an anguished cry, I crumple to the ground, exhaustion pulling me down to the point where I can only lay there and sob.
Then, hands surround me, pulling me into a strong chest I recognize as my dad’s. Sagging, I lose it in the comfort of his arms.
I don’t know how long we stay there before I’m finally able to pull myself together and slow the flood of tears. My dad’s hand continues to run through my hair as I work to calm down.
“We’re going to get you through this,” my dad says, his deep voice rumbling through his chest. I lean back a little to look into his blue jean-colored eyes, taking in his light brown hair and pristinely trimmed beard. There are so many emotions swirling in his gaze, I have to look away or risk falling apart for the second time.
“I know,” I whisper back and attempt to build my emotional walls again. I can’t afford to lose it like this every time we have a meeting with my doctor. I’m determined to stay strong from this moment on.
