Cancer
Cancer
The young man stared down at his green converse shoes as he sat in the hospital waiting room. His best friend sat next to him, gripping his tattooed hand in a vain attempt to comfort him. But nothing could boost this boy’s spirit except for the one thing that he knew would never come.
Then the feeling came over him again, like a black storm cloud. His head was as light as air. The room spun and his stomach churned. His limbs were heavy and he was seeing stars. “Josh,” he called his friend’s name, but it sounded miles away from where he was. He collapsed onto the floor and everything went black.
He woke up, blinking slowly as the room came into focus. Trying to figure out where he was, he saw white walls, a white bed, a small table, a TV, and a big window with an ugly view of a building. He was in a hospital. He had fainted. It all came back to him in a couple minutes.
He spotted Josh sitting in a chair on the opposite side of the room, staring at him through blond bangs with icy gray eyes. “Mick,” he sighed, making his way to his friend’s side of the bed, “thank God you’re awake.”
“Yeah,” Mick thought, “Now I can go through all the pain I’m about to endure.”
A doctor walked into the room, carrying a clipboard and studying it closely. “Hello Mr. Farrell,” he said with an apparent forced cheeriness. Mick was about to object to being called by his last name, but the doctor pressed on. “I’m Dr. Neil. How are you feeling?”
Mick ignored the doctor’s question. “Just tell me, doctor,” Mick paused, gathering the strength to ask his question, “Do I…do I have it?”
Dr. Neil no longer tried to sound joyful. “Yes,” he said, “you have cancer. I’m sorry.
Mick stared down at his hands, tears welling in his eyes and streaming down his cheeks.
***
The cancer hit Mick hard, like a speeding semi doing 80 mph on the highway. He knew he didn’t have long before it was all over.
Chemo was hard on his body. Instead of making him better, it took a large toll on him. After a few sessions, Mick just wanted all of it to end.
His hair was falling out. Every morning he would wake up to find locks of his beautiful black hair on the pillow. To make him feel less alone, Josh had shaved off all of his hair so he was bald as well.
There seemed to be an endless amount of pills to take. They took up the majority of space on his nightstand. Most of them were painkillers. He had all kinds of machines hooked up to him as well. Heart monitors, IV’s, and more things that Mick couldn’t identify. He was ashamed to have to rely on so many machines and pills.
Once a strong, athletic boy, Mick found it hard to just stand up anymore. He was tired and hurting all of the time. Every breath, every cough, every movement, tore at his insides like hot knives. Even in sleep, he was haunted by night terrors. Sure, painkillers helped, but the hurt was still there. Nothing could take away the pain he was in.
***
“Don’t look at me,” Mick demanded when he saw Josh staring at him with sad eyes. “I’m pathetic.”
Josh couldn’t think of a positive reply, no matter how hard he searched. Mick looked like a dying puppy and there was no denying it. He changed the subject. “Can I get you anything?”
Water,” Mick said, coughing feebly, one hand at his chest as. Josh walked to the small sink in the bathroom, filled a little cup with water, and gave it to Mick, helping him to hold it up without spilling it as he drank. The water did little to hydrate his chapped and faded lips.
“Anything else?”
“If you could help my aunt gather all my things and move them to her house, I would appreciate it.” Mick paused. “I’m selling my apartment.”
“Why? Why are you selling it?”
“Face it, Josh. I’m never leaving this hospital alive.”
Tears welled in Josh’s eyes. His friend had just severed the last ties to his hope that Mick would recover. “Don’t say that. Y-you’re going to be just f-fine. Y-you’ll see. You’re gonna l-live.”
“Stop it!” Mick yelled angrily. He paused in a fit of coughing, each cough tearing at his insides. “I’m dying and you know it just as well as I do!” Another coughing fit. “I mean, look at me!” He pointed to his reflection in the mirror with a bony, shaking finger. He was pale and emaciated. His skin was almost transparent. You could outline every bone in his frail body. His green eyes had drained of almost all their color and were sunken into his skull. His chapped lips were dappled with spots of dried blood. All of his hair was gone. Mick was the perfect picture of horror and death.
“All I’m living for is to count down the days to go.” Mick sounded defeated and tired, the complete contrast of his outburst. “And that just ain’t living. The agony…I don’t want to do this anymore.” Mick began to sob.
Josh hugged his friend’s once-strong body lightly, afraid that if he hugged to heard he would break his bones. “I’m here for you, buddy. I won’t leave you. I promise.”
“I’m only 30,” Mick whispered. “There are so many things I haven’t done yet. I’ve never fallen in love, I’ll never marry, start a family, travel the world…” He listed all of the things he had ever wanted to do. “But the hardest part of this,” Mick said, “is leaving you.”
Two days later, Mick could barely life his head. “Josh,” he croaked, and his friend leaned in closer, hanging onto every word he said, “you’re the best friend a guy could ever have. I love you.” He closed his green eyes and his body went limp as he took one last shaky exhale. The heart monitor flat lined. Josh laid his head in the crook of his friend’s shoulder and cried a river as the doctor called the time of death and unhooked the dead young man from all of the machines.
***
It was a sunny October day. The small crowd gathered in the cemetery was anything but sunny. Dressed in black, tears fell from a few faces as they looked in on their lost loved one.
“…He was the greatest friend a guy could ever hope for.” Josh finished the eulogy. He looked down into the open casket. Mick laid there, a peaceful look on his face and his arms crossed over his chest. He was dressed in green, his favorite color. It looked like he was sleeping. But Josh knew that he wasn’t asleep, he was dead.
Josh stepped in front of the casket, placing a picture of he and Mick inside it. He bent down and kissed his friend’s forehead. A tear fell on Mick’s face as Josh murmured, “Goodbye.”
As he walked away tears began to fall fast and hard. For comfort, he pulled out his iPod and pressed play. “I am not afraid to keep on living. I am not afraid to walk this world alone. Honey, if you stay I’ll be forgiven. Nothing you can say can stop me going home.”
Then the feeling came over him again, like a black storm cloud. His head was as light as air. The room spun and his stomach churned. His limbs were heavy and he was seeing stars. “Josh,” he called his friend’s name, but it sounded miles away from where he was. He collapsed onto the floor and everything went black.
He woke up, blinking slowly as the room came into focus. Trying to figure out where he was, he saw white walls, a white bed, a small table, a TV, and a big window with an ugly view of a building. He was in a hospital. He had fainted. It all came back to him in a couple minutes.
He spotted Josh sitting in a chair on the opposite side of the room, staring at him through blond bangs with icy gray eyes. “Mick,” he sighed, making his way to his friend’s side of the bed, “thank God you’re awake.”
“Yeah,” Mick thought, “Now I can go through all the pain I’m about to endure.”
A doctor walked into the room, carrying a clipboard and studying it closely. “Hello Mr. Farrell,” he said with an apparent forced cheeriness. Mick was about to object to being called by his last name, but the doctor pressed on. “I’m Dr. Neil. How are you feeling?”
Mick ignored the doctor’s question. “Just tell me, doctor,” Mick paused, gathering the strength to ask his question, “Do I…do I have it?”
Dr. Neil no longer tried to sound joyful. “Yes,” he said, “you have cancer. I’m sorry.
Mick stared down at his hands, tears welling in his eyes and streaming down his cheeks.
***
The cancer hit Mick hard, like a speeding semi doing 80 mph on the highway. He knew he didn’t have long before it was all over.
Chemo was hard on his body. Instead of making him better, it took a large toll on him. After a few sessions, Mick just wanted all of it to end.
His hair was falling out. Every morning he would wake up to find locks of his beautiful black hair on the pillow. To make him feel less alone, Josh had shaved off all of his hair so he was bald as well.
There seemed to be an endless amount of pills to take. They took up the majority of space on his nightstand. Most of them were painkillers. He had all kinds of machines hooked up to him as well. Heart monitors, IV’s, and more things that Mick couldn’t identify. He was ashamed to have to rely on so many machines and pills.
Once a strong, athletic boy, Mick found it hard to just stand up anymore. He was tired and hurting all of the time. Every breath, every cough, every movement, tore at his insides like hot knives. Even in sleep, he was haunted by night terrors. Sure, painkillers helped, but the hurt was still there. Nothing could take away the pain he was in.
***
“Don’t look at me,” Mick demanded when he saw Josh staring at him with sad eyes. “I’m pathetic.”
Josh couldn’t think of a positive reply, no matter how hard he searched. Mick looked like a dying puppy and there was no denying it. He changed the subject. “Can I get you anything?”
Water,” Mick said, coughing feebly, one hand at his chest as. Josh walked to the small sink in the bathroom, filled a little cup with water, and gave it to Mick, helping him to hold it up without spilling it as he drank. The water did little to hydrate his chapped and faded lips.
“Anything else?”
“If you could help my aunt gather all my things and move them to her house, I would appreciate it.” Mick paused. “I’m selling my apartment.”
“Why? Why are you selling it?”
“Face it, Josh. I’m never leaving this hospital alive.”
Tears welled in Josh’s eyes. His friend had just severed the last ties to his hope that Mick would recover. “Don’t say that. Y-you’re going to be just f-fine. Y-you’ll see. You’re gonna l-live.”
“Stop it!” Mick yelled angrily. He paused in a fit of coughing, each cough tearing at his insides. “I’m dying and you know it just as well as I do!” Another coughing fit. “I mean, look at me!” He pointed to his reflection in the mirror with a bony, shaking finger. He was pale and emaciated. His skin was almost transparent. You could outline every bone in his frail body. His green eyes had drained of almost all their color and were sunken into his skull. His chapped lips were dappled with spots of dried blood. All of his hair was gone. Mick was the perfect picture of horror and death.
“All I’m living for is to count down the days to go.” Mick sounded defeated and tired, the complete contrast of his outburst. “And that just ain’t living. The agony…I don’t want to do this anymore.” Mick began to sob.
Josh hugged his friend’s once-strong body lightly, afraid that if he hugged to heard he would break his bones. “I’m here for you, buddy. I won’t leave you. I promise.”
“I’m only 30,” Mick whispered. “There are so many things I haven’t done yet. I’ve never fallen in love, I’ll never marry, start a family, travel the world…” He listed all of the things he had ever wanted to do. “But the hardest part of this,” Mick said, “is leaving you.”
Two days later, Mick could barely life his head. “Josh,” he croaked, and his friend leaned in closer, hanging onto every word he said, “you’re the best friend a guy could ever have. I love you.” He closed his green eyes and his body went limp as he took one last shaky exhale. The heart monitor flat lined. Josh laid his head in the crook of his friend’s shoulder and cried a river as the doctor called the time of death and unhooked the dead young man from all of the machines.
***
It was a sunny October day. The small crowd gathered in the cemetery was anything but sunny. Dressed in black, tears fell from a few faces as they looked in on their lost loved one.
“…He was the greatest friend a guy could ever hope for.” Josh finished the eulogy. He looked down into the open casket. Mick laid there, a peaceful look on his face and his arms crossed over his chest. He was dressed in green, his favorite color. It looked like he was sleeping. But Josh knew that he wasn’t asleep, he was dead.
Josh stepped in front of the casket, placing a picture of he and Mick inside it. He bent down and kissed his friend’s forehead. A tear fell on Mick’s face as Josh murmured, “Goodbye.”
As he walked away tears began to fall fast and hard. For comfort, he pulled out his iPod and pressed play. “I am not afraid to keep on living. I am not afraid to walk this world alone. Honey, if you stay I’ll be forgiven. Nothing you can say can stop me going home.”