Surrendering to Death

I remember it was cold. No-one told me it was going to be cold, but they did say it wouldn’t hurt.
If I think about it now, it seems kind of silly that I was so scared. When I was dying, I was so afraid that there wouldn’t be anything after death. I always thought there would be nothing; that there was only life and death, and nothing more. But it’s peaceful up here, so calm, beautiful, and serene. It’s always warm and sunny, and there is never a cloud in the sky.
Okay, so your probably wondering what I’m going on about. I’ll start from the beginning,
It was a warm Sunday afternoon when it first happened. I was playing with my older brother in the park. Suddenly, there was this huge cramp in my stomach. I could barley breathe from the pain. Mum panicked when she saw my face had turned blue, she grabbed me by my shoulders and screamed at me to breathe. “Breath, Abelia, Breath!”
I had passed out, and when I woke up I was lying on a hospital bed with tubes stuck in my arms and on my chest. I saw Mum was sitting next to me, her face stained with tears. She started talking when she realized I was awake:
“Honey, Abelia I’m so sorry, you’re going to be okay. You just need to rest; you’ll be fine. The doctor said if you start treatment now you might have a full recovery.”
I looked my body over checking to see if there was anything missing or broken.
“Mum, what’s wrong with me? What’s wrong?”
“Sweetheart, sweetie, I’m sorry.”She started to cry again. “The doctor did a few scans and x-rays to check for any damage….you have cancer honey, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”
I stared at her, my head had started to spin; it was a lot to take in.
“How bad is it, Mum? How bad is the cancer?”
Taking in a deep breath and wiping the tears from her eyes she looked at me,
“Honey , It’s a stage four, but if the oncologist said if we start chemo therapy now, you may go into remission.”
I remember wondering why I wasn’t the one crying, I was the one with the stage four cancer wasn’t I? It was bound to happen to some one in my family, it was in my genes. My great maternal grand mother had died from the disease and my Dad’s mum had cancer too. So, if it wasn’t going to be me, then who would it be? My brother? My kids? It was better that it was me anyway, at the age of fourteen; you don’t have much to lose. Maybe some friends, a room, an IPod, a mobile phone, what else?
“Honey, are you ok? Mum snapped me out of my thoughts.
”Yeah, I’m fine just a little tired.”
“Well get yourself some sleep love.”
As soon as my mother had said that, my brother and my Dad walked in.
“What’s up people?” my brother said.
“The sky.” I joked.
“Very funny, how do you feel?” He sounded concerned, strange for his tough guy self.
“Ok, just a bit tired.”
“Oh, then you better sleep because Dad said your going to be starting chemo tomorrow.”
I remember staring at my brother like he was crazy. The first things I thought were ‘Chemo, they want to start me on chemo!!! I have stage four cancers for god’s sakes; it will just prolong my life for a couple of months and then what!’

When I was little, I always said that if I got cancer I wouldn’t take chemo therapy, because I didn’t want to live with the feeling of knowing that it could grow back any moment. I had seen my grandmother suffer from cancer and I wouldn’t want to experience the same things she went through. She was so brave, but was always in and out of hospital, and I didn’t think I had the strength to do that too.

Having found out that my chances of living was very slim and the chemo would have just prolonged my living. I felt very strongly in my heart not to take chemo. But how was I to explain this to my distraught parents and family? Looking at my parents, I wondered how I was to explain my decision without hurting them.

The next day, when I looked at my parents I could see the hope in their eyes. The hope that the chemotherapy might work, and that I may go into remission and all will be fine.
It took a lot of courage to approach them with my decision.
“Mum, Dad, I need to tell you something.”
My brother looked up from his book curious of what I was going to say.
“What is it honey, you can tell us anything.” Mum said.
“I umm…. Have been thinking a lot about my situation and have decided that I don’t want to take chemo therapy.”
I remember how hurt she looked, and the way her voice shook when she asked me:
“Why? It will help you. Why don’t you want to take the chemotherapy? “
Explaining my decision was most painful, for the all of us.
”Mum, I have stage four cancer, what will it do? Prolong my life for a couple of months. Then what? What will I do then?”
I spoke in such a stern tone that Mum took a step back.
“It’s my choice Mum; it’s my body and this is what I choose to do.”
My parents and brother just stared at me. They all had the same hurt, astonished look on their faces. During my decision making, I hadn’t once thought of how it would affect them. They where going to lose a child, a sister, someone that they shared their lives with and someone they loved. At that moment it dawned upon me the selfishness of my decision, but my mind was made up, and I was not going back.
Since my diagnosis, the cancer symptoms had gradually worsened. I had been in a lot of pain during my last days. It became so unbearable I was given a lot of Morphine.
My brother had taken time off school and my parents where always there by my side. I didn’t want to be left alone, I was afraid to leave the world with no hand to hold. For everyday that passed, we knew, was one day closer to my death. My parents and my brother had taken turns to sit next to me, holding my hand, for I worried that there would be no heaven, that there would be nothing.
The day I passed away, Mum was there to hold my hand, and telling me that I would be happy and in peace.
She was right.