Disclaimer: I do not own anything
A/N: so this is my first fanfic and it's based on the fault in our stars by John Green but with the characters of grey's anatomy
A/N 2: English isn't my first language so I'm very sorry if there is any grammar mistake
Callie's pov
My name is Callie Torres and I'm 17 years old, today is the fifth month I've been on remission. To say it was freaking difficult is an understatement.
My parents Carlos and Lucia have been trying to be strong for me but I can tell that it's been killing them. I have a big sister, her name is Aria and since we found out about cancer she has been always by my side, whenever I had to stay at hospital she would bring books and read them to me and she is always protecting me when we go out. But I guess that's normal because I'm her baby sister.
My mother decided I was depressed, presumably because I rarely left the house, spent quite a lot of time in bed, read the same book over and over, ate infrequently and devoted quite a bit of my abundant free time to thinking about death. Whenever you read a cancer booklet or website or whatever, they always list depression among the side effects of cancer. But, in fact, depression is not a side effect of cancer. Depression is a side effect of dying. (Cancer is also a side effect of dying. Almost everything is, really.) But my mom believed I required treatment so she took me to see my regular doctor Jim who agreed I should attend weekly Support Group.
This support group featured a rotating cast of characters in various states of tumor-driven un-wellness. Why did the cast rotate? A side effect of dying.
This support group was depressing as hell. It met every Wednesday in the basement of a stone-walled Episcopal Church shaped like a cross. We all sat in a circle right in the middle of the cross, where two boards would have met, where the heart of Jesus would have been.
I noticed this because Patrick, the Support group leader and only person over eighteen in the room talked about the heart of Jesus every freaking meeting, all about how we, as cancer survivors, were sitting right in Christ's very sacred heart and whatever.
Before I had to attend the Support Group, I spent time reading medical journals not because I wanted to know more about cancer and all that, but because I want to become a surgeon. So my best friend and I would be wandering around the hospital when it was a good day for me, to sneak into the galleries and watch surgeries. My best friend is Mark Sloan, I've known him since we were I diapers and when the doctor told me I was diagnosed with cancer I was so afraid I would lose him.
I was diagnosed with Stage 4 Thyroid cancer with metastasis forming in my lungs when I was 14, but I have managed to live with my disease thanks to doses of an experimental drug called Phalanxifor.
Anyway, the six or seven or ten of us walked/wheeled in, grazed at a decrepit selection of cookies and lemonade, sat down in the circle of trust, and listened to Patrick recount fo the thousandth time his miserable life story. Then we introduced ourselves: name. Age. Diagnosis. And how we're doing today. I'm Callie, I'd say when they'd get to me. Seventeen. Thyroid originally but with an impressive and long settled satellite colony in my lungs. And I'm doing okay.
So support group blew and after a few weeks, I grew to be rather kicking and screaming about the whole affair. In fact, on the Wednesday I made the acquaintance of Arizona Robbins, I tried my level best to get out of the support group while sitting ion my bed with my sister in the marathon of harry potter movies, which I have already seen but they were my favorite movies and books.