I hate support group. It's too depressing. Isn't the fact that I'm dying enough depression for my life? I guess not because every week I am forced to go to a support group with a bunch of other depressed dying kids with sad lives and stories to tell. I'd rather sit at home and do nothing. And the feeling of boredom is my opinion, one of the worse feelings on earth. Aside from being in the hospital.
I've been battling leukemia for six years. I've been through bone marrow transplants, radiation, and chemo but nothing has worked so far. Do I worry about dying; no. Why? Because I know it's going to happen. Even if they keep me alive for a hundred years I will someday die. That's what I don't get about people wanting to find ways to live forever. Eventually, you're going to wear down and be in pain. You're not going to be able to do the things you could when you were younger, like skydive or some other extreme experience. What's the point in life if you can't do anything? It's part of the reason each time I enter the hospital, the less and less I want to ever walk out. Each time I leave, I'm frailer and weaker than I was before. I'm scare of living and not doing anything.
"I don't want to go." I say, crossing my arms over my chest. I'm in the car in front of the building where "Jesus' Heart"; aka support group; aka boredom is. I don't feel like going today, so I'm not walking in without giving my mom a hard time.
"Analise Carter, you are going to support group. You never leave the house unless I force you and you need friends," My mom scolds, "I don't want to hear it out of you today." She glares at me through the review mirror. Usually, I would feel guilty but I feel to strongly about not going.
"Sure, I'll go make friends with a bunch of people who are going to die again. Just like Ava." I say sarcastically and with hurt in my voice. My mom gets quiet after that. I can tell I've made my point about making friends.
Ava was a girl I met in support group. She had lung and bronchial cancer. Ava found a way to break down my protective walls and soon after died. Before her, I won't let anyone get close to me. I was scared about dying and hurting a lot of people. So I just kept to just my family. That way I would only hurt them. But I guess Ava wasn't worried about me dying when she herself was dying.
"Ana...just go. You don't have to talk or anything, just go." My mother says sorrowfully. Ava's death hit her pretty hard. She had gotten used to her coming over every weekend and seeing her so often and then, poof, we got a call saying she was gone.
I grunt and unbuckle my seat belt. I open the door, ignoring my mother's "Goodbye I love you". I walk up to the door, opening it slowly so I can waste as much time as possible. I walk down the stairs, because taking the elevator is a "my last days" kind of thing. I went on there a few times with Ava when she was coming in and out of the hospital and in and out of health. When I get downstairs, a few kids are gathered around the snack table eating and some talking. Others like Hazel Grace, keep to themselves. When I walk in Patrick, the guy who runs the support group, greets me excitedly.
"Analise! Nice to see you here again! Feel free to grab a snack or sit down." He says enthusiastically. When he says "nice to see you here again" it feels like he just said "oh, so you're not dead yet". But even so, I force myself to smile and nod.
"Okay Patrick." I realize there is a hint of sarcasm in my voice. I hope he didn't pick up on it. He doesn't seem to, but then again, the only emotion he shows is pure joy. He smiles and pats my head. I can feel the yarn of my white knit hat. A side effect of my chemo; no hair. So I tend to wear a lot of hats. This one, Ava actually gave to me on my birthday.
I remember my hair. It used to be long, brushing my hips. And it was straight blonde. When it started falling out, I would cry each time I found a lock in my hair brush or on my pillow. But once it was all gone, I accepted it. But it gets cold, so I tend to wear hats and it hides my sickness. Right now though, I have a slight layer of blonde fuzz on my head. My hair grows a little in between chemo treatments. Whenever people see it, they get excited and think I'm done with chemo. It depresses me to explain to them I'm still going.
I walk over to the table and get some water before going to take a seat next to a boy named Alex. He's the kind of guy that's really outgoing. He's probably one of the most social people in this support group. Alex has liver cancer. Another boy sits next to me, Isaac. I feel bad for him. He can barely see. Sight to me is something that is to often taken for granted. People can see such things as a sunset. They can see the beautiful oranges, pinks, purples, and yellow. Those people can just glance at the sunset, knowing they'll see it again tomorrow and not care about the beautiful sense in front of them. Isaac is going to lose that joy.
I sigh. Maybe I shouldn't think about such depressing things. But what else can I think about when my life can only be described as depressing.
Patrick gets up to the stand and begins with his story about his ball cancer. Yes, his balls. It takes everything we got not to crack up, but the more you come, the easier it gets. You can tell how long people have been here based off of how much or if they laugh. I can see a few newbies already, snickering each time he mentions his cancer. He goes on, rambling about how miracles can happen and that we're here in the "literal heart of Jesus" so to sum it up, great things can happen. I don't believe in everything he says, but I do believe is some miracles. It's just they don't happen to everyone. I feel like he's trying to build up our hope, only for us to be disappointed. Patrick also believes Jesus will bring us peace and save us. And that just proves my theory on him building up our hope. Most of us in here are going to die. We all know it, and I'm sure Patrick knows even though he'd never admit it. Maybe one or two of us in here will make it, but the rest of us aren't.
I'm one of the unlucky ones.
"Okay, lets all go around and introduce ourselves." Patrick says after completing his story. He smiles at the poor girl sitting next to him, "You can start Lisa." We all have to say our names, our type of cancer, and how we're feeling today. Most of us just say the same thing every week. But a few of the talkative kids, like Alex, get more into it.
When it's my turn I say, "Hi, my name is Analise, Ana for short. I have leukemia and I'm fine today."
I've been saying that same thing for the passed three years. I'm one of the last kids from my original group. Lexi being the latest to go. There is another kid from my original group who has colon cancer. I think he is going to be next from the original to go. Then it will just be me and Luke. I think I'll go before Luke. I have a thirty percent chance to make it to my sixteenth birthday. I'm fourteen now. He has a fifty percent chance of making it to his eighteenth birthday, he's fifteen now and he's much healthier compared to me.
Patrick asks a few people just to talk about what's going on in their lives and such. I usually tune it out. Half the time its people talking about their treatment and coming in and out of remission.
As I'm sitting in my chair with a blank expression on my face wondering what's for dinner, Patrick asks me to speak.
"Nothing interesting, good or bad, is happening to me. It's the same thing as last week." I say. I really don't like talking in this group.
"So you're still going through chemo?" Patrick asks. He leans forward like he's extremely interested in what I'm about to say. But I know he isn't. He's like this with every other person in this group.
"Yes." I sigh. I hate when people defy me by my illness. It's like that's all they can see about me. They don't see my skills, weaknesses, personality. All they can think about when they see me is cancer. So I guess I have become my illness. Now it does defy me. Its the only thing people talk to me about. Its the only thing they're interested in hearing. All I can ever talk about is my damn cancer.
A boy raises hand. Patrick smiles.
"Yes, Aaron?" Patrick asks.
"Can I ask a question." Aaron says. Patrick nods excitedly. Aaron has gone here for about a month and refused to talk unless necessary. Patrick must think he's made some kind of break through with this kid. "I don't mean to be rude and interrupt your turn here Analise, but can we talk about something besides cancer?"
"Well, I guess we could. Unless Analise wants to say anything else." Patrick turns to me. Everyone's eyes in the class are on me. I lock my hazel eyes with Aaron's sky blue ones. Aaron nods at me as if to say "you're welcome". I give him the slightest nod them look at Patrick. I shake my head. "Okay, what do you guys want to talk about? Aaron, maybe you would like to give us a topic."
"Uh...no thanks." He says, ducking his head. Patrick shrugs and smiles.
"Analise, how about you?" He asks. I'm frozen for a moment. I was not expecting him to ask me. I was already back into my "no care" state.
"Um...How about...books?" I say sheepishly. I really love books. But I'm pretty picky. I'm not into books only about one thing. Like so many books I've encountered, there is too much romance to see what the book is really about. You have to find the perfect balance, or else you'll drown out what you were trying to say in the beginning. I try to find books where the author knows how to find the perfect balance. I have a hard time finding these rare balances so I'm always in a desperate search for books.
"Okay, anybody read anything interested?" Patrick beams. Everyone is a bit hesitant at first. I guess we have all become our illness. Aaron once again raises his hand. Patrick calls on him with even more excitement now that he's talking twice in one day.
"The Unwind series. I just finished the second book." Aaron explains, "Its a little bit of a disturbing topic, but I still like it."
"Can you explain more?" says Patrick.
"Well...its a dystopian society that takes place in the near future. There was a war about abortion. One side wanted it, the other side didn't. So to satisfy both sides, the government came up with this thing called 'Unwinding'. There is no abortion, but from the ages of thirteen to eighteen, parents can send their children to be unwound which is when they harvest all your organs and other body parts so they can be giving to other people for transplants," a few girls start chattering about how disgusting that sounds but Aaron continues, "It follows three children who are being sent to be unwound but run away. It has a lot of meaning. It really makes you think, which is why I like it despite the gross bit. The book isn't taken over by just the unwinding part which is another good thing in my opinion."
I'm suddenly very curious about Aaron. Not only does he seem to have my sense in book taste, but he seems deep and full of surprises. Maybe there is more to him. Wait, what am I thinking. I can't get close to someone. One of us is bond to hurt the other when we die. I can't do that to a person and I can't go through it again. I shake my head to get rid of the thought and try to focus on everyone else's reviews on books they have read.
But when I think about it again, there are ways to talk to people and not be friends.
Hope you enjoyed the chapter. I've wanted to do a "The Fault in Our Stars" story for a while since I mainly do hunger games and I fell in love with this book. It's been a while since I read the book so some of the things in here may be different from the book. Also, I don't know to much about cancer. What I write about it may not be true/real.
Please review and tell me what you think! I love knowing what everyone thinks about what I write.