I walked around the streets of Indiana, dragging my oxygen tank along with me. Mom and Dr Jim said I had to go to Support Group again because they thought I was 'depressed'. I was, though.
I didn't want to go at all. It brought back too many memories.
As I walked around, I looked at the scene around me: flowers and weeds growing in areas, children running around, their parents running after them. I passed by some houses and as I looked at each house, one of them caught my eye.
There, on the front yard, was the swing set I gave away with the help of Augustus. It looked as new as ever. I smiled and continued walking.
I ended up walking back to my house, my mom on the computer and my dad at work. Without looking up, mom said, "How are you sweetie?"
"Grand," I replied. I walked to my room and looked at Bluie. It was only eight o'clock and that walking exhausted me. So I slept.
When I sat down next to Isaac at Support Group the next day, I felt this bubbling pain in my lungs but I left it alone. I thought it was just memories of being with Augustus here at Support Group.
But as Support Group went on, the pain grew each second. By the time Patrick started reading his list of dead people, the pain became unbearable.
I groaned, clutching my chest as my breathing became ragged. I shut my eyes tight, about to lose consciousness. The last thing I heard before I blacked out was Isaac yelling: "Hazel! Someone call 911!"
I woke up to find a white room, my arms full of needles, heart monitors, and a big tube from my chest that connected to one heart monitor.
I scanned the room and saw my parents sitting in chairs, asleep, worry etched on their face.
The pain was still in my chest and it's stronger than yesterday. I heard the heart monitor beeping rapidly, my parents jolting awake and crying, nurses marching in and mom crying: "Hazel! No!"
My life flashed before my eyes and before I knew it, my eyes finally closed. It won't open ever again.
My eyes snapped open and came face to face with a smiling to a smiling Augustus Waters. "Took you long enough," he said.
"It's only been one month," I counseled, "but yes, it took me long enough."
Augustus smiled, slipping his hand into mine and took me to the Somewhere Gus believed in
We walked in, cancer free.
