Cancer Short Story

Sarah Guerra , 16
New York

She chose to ignore everyone else around her. Everyone she knew was there. They had all come to be with her on that particular day. The one day that no one could have imagined would come so quickly. They wanted to be with her on that day. So that she wouldn’t be alone. But what no one knew was that in a room full of people, she felt more alone than ever.

Her eyes scanned the room, looking at all the people. The faces were just blurs and she couldn’t tell one from the other. She knew who was there, but now she couldn’t tell who was who. She couldn’t see that her family was leaning on each other for support. She couldn’t tell that they were all looking at her and weeping.

“Amanda told Amber that she liked Scott. And Amber told Scott, who pretended that he didn’t care. But then Scott told Jason, and now the whole school knows.” Her two best friends were at her side, telling her stories about what was going on at school. They told her all the gossip she missed while she was out. They told her who had failed which tests and who had said what.

But she wasn’t paying attention to their words; none of that mattered now. She was too busy listening to their voices. She could hear them and tell they were filled with sadness. She could tell that they knew this would be the last time they would see her. She knew they were trying not to cry, trying to be strong for her. As if she didn’t know what was happening to her body. As if she was completely clueless.

But that wasn’t true. She knew exactly what was going on.

She knew what was happening inside her at that very moment. She knew that her body was trying to fight a war that it could never win. She knew that was the reason why she was so tired. The reason why she spent most of her days in bed. She knew that it was almost the end.

Most of her life, she had believed in fate. She believed that everything happened for a reason. That everyone would get what they deserved. But she couldn’t say that about this. The disease, the effect it had on everyone she loved: it was all unfair. What terrible act had she committed to deserve something like this? She had to grow up way too fast. She had to learn to accept things the way they were. Accept the fact that she’d never get to go to college. She’d never get to fall in love. She’d never get married, nor have children.

She was being robbed.

She knew she wouldn’t be a “normal” teenager. She knew she’d have to deal with in-and-out trips to the doctor’s office for most of her life. She knew that some of her hair would fall out and she’d lose the stamina that she once possessed. She knew that once people found out, some would pity her and some would even shun her. As if she were contagious. But in time she learned to accept it, to deal with it.

But it wasn’t as if she was okay with it. She wasn’t okay with it at all. And when she first got the news, she didn’t believe it. She thought it was some kind of practical joke. That everyone was trying to keep themselves from laughing when the doctors had told her. She imagined some guy was following her with cameras and would pop out screaming, “Gotcha!” But it wasn’t funny. It was cruel and it was scary. And when she saw the look on her father’s face, she knew it wasn’t a joke. It was real. She could see it in his eyes.

And when he had found out she couldn’t be cured, he had the same look. He knew that he’d never get to walk her down the aisle and give her away. He knew he’d never get to be a grandfather.

She knew that she would miss her father the most. She did not hide the fact that she was daddy’s little girl. She was never ashamed to admit that she loved her father. He was the one who always took her to the doctor when she needed it. He was the one who would always tell her funny stories from her childhood when she was feeling down. He was always there for her, making sure she had everything she needed. And now, it was no different. He was right next to her, making sure that she was more comfortable.

“Does it hurt?” She heard a voice from the back of the room whisper.

She shook her head, and that was the truth. It didn’t hurt at all. But she did want to get it over with. Not because she was scared, which she was, but she had gotten used to it. She wanted to get it over with because she hated seeing everyone she cared about like this. Everyone was in tears; everyone was looking at her with sad eyes. She hated when people fussed over her. When people cried over her and her condition.

She looked at all of the people surrounding her. The blurs had become crystal clear and she could now see everyone. She could not place names with the faces, but it didn’t matter. Names weren’t important to her now, only the memories that fluttered past her as she looked into each face. Days at the park with her aunt, staying up until three in the morning with her friends: every scene from the past few years of her life had flashed before her eyes.

She looked to her father, who looked back with tears in his eyes. He looked worn and exhausted to her, like a used rag that had been through too much. She felt her heart ache; she knew that she had done that to him. And that’s when everything became too much to handle.

She closed her eyes and suddenly felt extremely tired. She didn’t struggle to stay awake, and knowing that she wouldn’t wake up relieved her. She was comforted by the fact that she wouldn’t have to deal with coping with her sickness for the rest of her life. Relieved that she didn’t have to look at her father’s face and see all of the pain and hurt. She felt herself slipping…slowly. She let herself slide into a deep and peaceful sleep…letting go of all…emotion…of all thought…