1I flinched a little as my feet touched the cold white floor. I rose slowly out of bed and felt a sharp pain in my middle. It was beginning already. I was determined to get myself through the door. Step by step I dragged the unnecessarily large pole by my side. Each time I moved forward the pain in my stomach became more and more intense. Finally, I collapsed in the doorway of the bathroom. Who knew a nineteen-year-old would have so much trouble with such a simple task?
My name is Amelia. Call me Lia. I have cancer. That's the routine - how I've become accustomed to introducing myself. It's so funny the reactions you get when people find out you're dying. Like they believe through their sympathy I'll magically become better. I won't. I suffer from non-Hodgkin's lymphoma. It's the kind of cancer that people die quick and painful deaths from. I was diagnosed in July of last year, one month after my high school graduation. While my friends were spending all their time working, saving money for college, I was at the hospital having tests run. My blood was magic. All the doctors wanted to examine it. My mother let them. She's just heartbroken. Somehow she feels it's her fault I'm not well.
Anyway, the doctors finally came to the conclusion that I was suffering from a rare and acute form of cancer. They broke the news to us on a Friday. I had at least three large tumors in my stomache. That whole weekend my mom and I cried like I was going to die on Monday. I don't know. I guess I'm used to the idea that I will probably die soon. It's not that I want to, but I have no choice in this.
I was given three options by my doctor. (I would of course be provided pain relievers in all three options). The first was that I could receive no treatment, and live 'normally' until I died. The second was that I could try radiation therapy, which has fewer undesirable side effects than chemo. The third choice was that I could try and fight the cancer with every option available, at the highest strengths that I could endure. I told her I wanted to give all I had to fight against the cancer.
...but what does it mean - fighting against the cancer? It was my body. I was fighting against myself. I developed this superstitious fear that somehow my cancer would become aware of my plans and match the medicine strength for strength, and I'd end up fighting something I never had a chance to win in the first place.
The door opens without the slightest noise. The nurse walks in, and sees me in the doorway. I look down, knowing full well I'm supposed to wait for assistance before getting out of bed. He walks over and helps me up. Without saying a word I smile and close the door behind me. I hear him leave. Looking in the mirror, I melt. Tears stream from my eyes. This isn't how it's supposed to be. But I'm tired of being angry, I'm tired of being sad. My physical illness has brought up so many emotions, and I'm just drained trying to deal with all of them. I turn the handle of the faucet and close the curtain, letting the cold water take my thoughts away from my little fit of self pity. "What do you think about having the party at Willow's Park?" she asked me with eager eyes.
"I don't know. That sounds nice, I guess." "Well, would you rather have it at Nanna's?"
"Willow's is fine, Mom." "Are you okay?" I looked up at her as she reached to feel my forehead.
"I'm fine." I took her hand off my head. "Jerry said he found you on the floor today. You know better than to try and get around by yourself. It doesn't matter how you feel on the inside . . . "
"I know Mom. I'm weak. I know this. Do you think I can't see myself?"
There was a long pause. Somehow it felt like there were just too many words to be said right then, and neither of us had the strength to say them.
" I just wanted to see how far I could go. It's been so long since I could do anything for myself . . . I just wanted to try." I could feel tears glazing over my eyes, but I refused to let them spill onto my cheeks. She lifted her hand once again, but this time she did it in understanding, not doubt.
They wheeled me through the white hallway. I stared at the lines on the ceiling passing, boop, boop, boop. It was like watching the end of a roll of film flip over and over at the theater. God I missed the movies . . . I arrived at the white room, sterile and prepped just for me. The doctor stood above me, telling me about was he was about to do.
"You're lucky. We've gotten this new technology, developed specifically for your type of cancer." I liked how he said it as if I owned my cancer. It was mine, I was famous.
"Really?" I responded with feigned interest.
"Yes. In clinical studies it has shown promise to dramatically increase the life spans of cancer patients such as yourself. Not to give you too much hope though, for this is a very new treatment and has not yet had 'real life' people to measure up to." The way the corners of his eyes crinkled, I figured he was smiling. The blue mask he wore prevented me from knowing for sure though. He could have been cringing . . .
Soon a nurse walked in with a medium sized syringe. I knew that was my anesthesia. I happily waited the sting of the needle . . .
I woke up the next morning with a strange sensation in my arm-the absence of the IV! This new situation held my attention just long enough for me to realize that I wasn't attached to an IV because today I was going out. It was my party. Oh, god . . . I'd rather the needle was still in my arm . . .
There was a small gazebo next to the tent set up in the middle of a garden at Willow's Park. Half-inflated balloons lazily bobbed in the breeze. Streamers and crepe paper were hung along the poles of the tent. The gazebo had a small table inside with a high-back chair. I guess that was my place. We arrived in a large van provided by the hospital. The caterers were already there, and they smiled as I walked awkwardly toward them.
The party was supposed to save me. Give me something to look forward to. I was dying. The only thing I had in my future was physical pain. But mom wanted it to make me happy, so I was happy. If she was comforted by this frivolous event, then I was happy - I didn't have to fake that. I did fake the endless smiles however. Friends from high school, distant relatives, even a few people I knew in grammar school showed up. They all hugged me with concern, and provided unending sympathy. We were served sandwiches and iced tea, catered by a local restaurant. Mom made sure that I hadn't received chemo that day so I'd be able to eat. I could barely stomache anything though. I felt my life had slipped away already. I was in a bubble, watching all the people I used to know go on growing up . . . all the while I was stuck in quick sand grasping to a thread of hope.
Jerry walked into the break room and saw three fellow nurses waiting with eager faces. He had no clue how he would be able to tell them the news. He walked over to the counter and poured himself a cup of coffee, extending the torment of the suspense. He drank half of the black coffee, took a deep breath, then looked up to reveal the tragic event.
"They found her in her party dress, hanging in the bathroom. Her face was blue and purple by the time they'd gotten to her. She'd used the clean white linen from the bed. No one has been able to figure out were the red stains of blood on the sheet came from though." - -
"Marie, I'm sorry we are meeting under such tragic circumstances," the doctor spoke with a somber expression. Marie was silent, as she had been since it happened, "Lia was very sick. She had a real illness . . . it just wasn't what she was diagnosed with."
"What do you mean?" she whispered. "Lia's illness was not the cancer," the doctor paused, as if trying to summon courage to go on explaining, "she suffered from severe schizophrenia with somatic delusions."
The doctor took a deep breath. Marie sat calmly near the window with her hands folded neatly in her lap. She had not reacted as the doctor expected.
"Lia.s-she had physical symptoms. I remember my child's suffering-how was she not physically ill?" she was in disbelief.
"Marie, we never revealed this information to you for the sake of your daughter. She had no idea of the true circumstances of her illness. Lia was part of a government program researching alternate treatments for schizophrenia. The aim was to feed Lia's delusion, make it seem truly real to everyone that she was a cancer patient. We were headed toward her cure. Theoretically, when her cancer was cured, her schizophrenic tendencies would be too." He stopped and waited before going on.
"Her death was unforeseen. It was never part of the plan."