Saturday, February 16, 2013

Gen. 1, Chap. 8: Tell Me What This Means?

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*Kristine's POV*

What does this mean?

I sat in the hospital bed, shoving my face into my knees, bawling my eyes out. This just wasn't possible, and I've been a strong woman all of my life. The doctors said I would survive, but I thought the worst of it all.

What if I died? I can't leave my family!

Slowly, I trudged over to the mirror in my room and tied my hair into a bandanna  well, what was left of it. The chemotherapy I've been receiving was  making my hair fall out, and only a few inches were left before I was completely bald. But, already, my eyebrows were gone, as if someone took a razor and shaved them off. Anyways, I cleaned the running makeup off my face from crying, and I sat back on the bed while waiting for the chemotherapist to arrive. Visiting hours were over, so I couldn't see Marley, Kyle, and the girls until tomorrow. There was a knock on my door and the chemotherapist, Dr. Royale.

"Alright, we'll get this over quick." He set the tray of needles down on the bedside table, and he grabbed the large needle labelled "Chemo" on it and injected it into the I.V. line my hand was hooked up to. After a few minutes, the chemotherapist gave me a puzzled look and injected another drug into the line.

"Your way too tense and stressed out. I'm just giving you a sedative to loosen up so the drugs can move around your body."

Just then, I felt my muscles loosen up as the world seemed to have started to spin around and Dr. Royale put up the barriers on my hospital bed.

"I wouldn't go anywhere for a while. You'll be in this state for a little bit, okay?" His voice echoed and there was two of everything.

I flopped back on the bed and sat for a while and waited for my body to flush the drugs out. It seemed like hours until my vision cleared and I was back to normal, when it was only ten minutes. With nothing to do, I fell asleep and waited for tomorrow, which would be a very boring day.


Marley, Kyle, and the girls came to visit again. We talked, and the kids played, when Marley brought up a very touchy subject.

"When are you getting the surgery?"

"What surgery?"

"The one to remove the cancer cells."

"I'm not doing it."

Marley's face grew worried.

"But, Kris-"

"I know what I'm doing, and I know the surgery won't help."

The doctor came in and did an exam on me to make sure I was doing okay.

"So, what's this talk about not getting the surgery."

I sat up tall and looked Marley and the doctor in the eyes.

"Listen, no matter how hard you convince me, I'm never getting the surgery. Keep me alive all you want, but I know it's better this way, and it's final."

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