The Unfinished Rug

When I grow up, I want to be a lawyer. That is, if I'm ever able to. I've been living my life in anticipation, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Have you ever had that feeling, the feeling that something bad is going to happen, but you just don't know when?

I've had that feeling almost my entire life. For 8 years now, I've been waiting for the other shoe to drop. For 8 years, I haven't known if I'm going to live to see the next day. I haven't known if I'll make it through another season of my favorite television show, I haven't known whether or not I'll die before I can graduate middle school. After living for 8 years wondering when I'm going to die, I've stopped hoping for a treatment, and have started to live my life to the fullest every day that I manage to survive.

Ever since I was five, I've known that I'm going to die. More importantly, I've known that I'm going to die before everyone else my age will. When I was five, I was diagnosed with leukemia. Luckily, my doctors have always been honest with me. I've always been mature for my age, so when a five-year-old asked them when she was going to die, the doctors were quite appalled. Since they must stick with their honesty rule, they told me that I was going to die 'eventually.' Even at that young of an age I knew that 'eventually' for me has basically been 'soon.'

So far, I've made it past the odds. Thanks to the new medical advances and my will to live, I've been able to make it through the seventh grade. Ten years ago, a child with leukemia was only expected to live until about second grade! And better yet, my life has almost been normal. I'm not quite sure what normal is, but compared to other teenage girls, I have almost the same problems.

Sure, they don't have to worry about spinal taps and bone marrow aspirations, but I worry about boys and my image too! Actually, I think I have it easier than them as far as the looks department, because I'm bone thin and I can style my hairdo off of my head. Let me explain … because of all of the chemotherapy and medications that I take, my hair has fallen out. Luckily, my parents bought me a wig. It looks pretty real; people who don't know me always compliment me on my hair. In the morning, while getting ready for school, I can easily turn the wig around and make it how I want it to look, even in the back! Sure, it's not as good as real hair, but I'm pretty lucky.

Many people think I worry too much about my looks, but I don't think I do. Most girls my age have a problem with their appearances; most of them think that they are ugly. After spending months in a hospital, I know what ugly really is. It's when your body has retained so much fluid that your face looks like a balloon. It's when you can't move your joints because you've been laying in bed so long. It's when a person walks into the room and grimaces at the sight of your horrendous body. Most people think that ugly is just having a bad hair day, but it's much, much more than that. After seeing and being everything that is truly ugly, I don't believe that spending 15 minutes on your hair is obsessive.

From the moment of my diagnosis, I've become a positive thinker, as well as a pretty good craftsperson. During every hospital stay, I've always had a craft on my bedside table. I've given all of my nurses and doctors presents for their hard work and dedication to find a cure. My first hospital stay, it was finger painting. Then it was finger knitting. Recently, it's been crocheting, knitting, and latch hooking. When classmates walk into my room, they are usually blown away by the amount of craft materials, as well as crafts, that are packed inside my tiny bedroom. I have everything from beading to sketchbooks to embroidery. I've embroidered my own pants and tops for ages.

Thanks to these skills, I've been able to make a few acquaintances. My parents think it's nice when I bring a little 'play mate' over after school to work on homework, but most of the time, the kids come because they've heard about my awesome crafts and want to learn how to fix their mutated scarf that they were going to make their mother for her birthday. Most of the time, this doesn't bother me, but I've always hoped and dreamed about having a friend that really cares about me, a friend that would give anything to keep me alive, give anything to make the pain go away.

Yesterday was the official first day of eighth grade, but today was my first day. I had to skip the first day because of a spinal tap and chemotherapy appointment. I could have gone to school yesterday, but all of the excitement would have been way too much for me to handle after chemotherapy and a spinal tap. I mean, it's not like I don't know where my classes are. Because of my leukemia, I always get my schedule for the next year on the last day of school. This way, I know my classes if I need to get homework from someone due to a hospital visit or something. It's very easy, and I also usually walk my classes a couple of days before school starts so I know what to take to which class. I know that it might seem like I'm getting special treatment because of my leukemia, but it's really necessary because I don't know when I'm going to be in the hospital.

Even though I missed yesterday, most students were sincerely glad to have me back in school. I'm not saying that they are my friends, but I'm certainly glad that they care enough about me to ask how I'm doing and how my summer was. For most kids, this would just be something normal, but I'm not used to getting a lot of attention from my fellow peers. There is a seemingly nice girl that is in almost all of my classes. Her locker is even next to mine! I'm not sure if we'll ever be friends, because whenever I try and befriend a new girl, they are always freaked out about my leukemia, and end up throwing our friendship in the trash. Sometimes people act like leukemia is contagious. Stupidity sure seems like it is … contagious I mean.

The one thing I hate about school is how everyone treats me. They aren't mean or anything, they are all very nice. But the teachers always give me special treatment, and the kids know to be nice to be because everyone knows that I might not be around for too much longer. I don't mind that they know that I have leukemia, but I just hate the special treatment that I always get. I understand the different tests and quizzes from my teachers, but when they start treating me like a fragile China doll, that's when I become frustrated.

Throughout my whole life, I've been treated like a doll that has many microscopic cracks over their whole body. My doctors make sure that my whole room is germ-free, and my parents are obsessed about cleaning every day. The school nurse even has extended invitations to stay inside from recess. Everyone has my 'best interests' in mind, but I k know more about what I need than anyone else does.

I know now that I need a friend. Not just one of the fake friends that I've had in the past, but a real friend. I've decided to be friends with the new girl. Since she's new, I can almost start on a blank slate. She doesn't know anything about my past, and I hope that we can learn about the future together.

It worked! The new girl is actually nicer than she looks. I'm not sure how that is even possible, but somehow it is. I learned during homeroom that her name is Lisa and she just moved here from South Carolina. When we first talked, it was just like in kindergarten. You know how in kindergarten, you wouldn't even know a kid, but within 10 seconds, you were playing with each other like you were best friends? That's just how Lisa and I are.

As usual, along with the good news, there's the bad news too. This news is sure to test my new friendship, just like it always does. My doctor called today. She didn't sound happy. She wanted to meet with my family and me at the hospital. She said to pack my bags.