Before I Wake

I had been laying in this hospital bed for some time now, my back was beginning to ache. I was dressed in a wonderfully and fashionable hospital gown, an IV stuck in my arm, administering my very first dose of the drugs that were apparently going to help and save my life. Everything felt as though it was going in slow motion, as though none of it were real. Oh, how I wished.

I closed my eyes, letting out a small sigh, growing tired. I no longer wanted to see the only color I had been seeing for the past few hours; white. Everything in this damn place was white; the walls, the floor, the ceiling, the bed, everything. It was too overwhelming. White was a color of purity, of feeling eternally clean. This, I was not feeling. I felt diseased. I felt disgusting. This disease was destroying me from the inside out and I was anything but eternally clean.

My thoughts drifted toward the boy I had been so desperately trying to void from my life, to no avail. We hadn't spoken in a number of weeks, though he had been trying. Numerous calls, texts, visits to the apartment, all in vain. I refused to see him. I can't put him through the pain I was going through.

I desperately tried to move on with my life, having secured a part-time job with Emily, letting her know that I was going through some personal problems and just needed something to keep my mind off it. She completely understood and hired me on, for the time being. Business was slow, so, she wasn't expecting she would need me often. I had also continued with school, but, transferred my classes to being online, something I absolutely despised.

I still hadn't told Chelsea and I scowled at how that was going to go over. I knew I had to tell her soon, I could only use my father as an excuse for so long. If my hair started to fall out, or better yet, when, she would definitely have some questions. As of now, there was only one person who knew I had cancer, as far as family and friends went; my father.

I had been staring at my cell phone for almost an hour now, willing myself to call him. I sat comfortably on the edge of my bed, hands clasped around the device. I had to tell him. How could I not? Better to tell him now than when he gets that large hospital bill on his hands. I grimaced, not even wanting to think about the outrageous amount of money that would be spilled into me.

I let out a sigh, my gaze drifting back down to the cell phone, having let it drift off toward the wall. My family had never had any issues with money, my father had a secure job at one of the largest banks in town and my mother never had to work once she met and married my father. But, my first round of chemotherapy was coming up, so, I had no choice but to tell him now.

I finally gained the courage to call him, hoping that his voicemail would answer, or he would say he was too busy to talk, that way I could think about another plan of action. I listened as the line rang for some time and I was almost convinced that it would go to voicemail. Almost.

"Alaine?" his voice echoed through the device.

I groaned internally, this is not what I was hoping to have to deal with.

"Hey, dad." I whispered, all of my previous courage disappearing the moment I heard his voice.

"How are you?" he asked. I heard some shuffling in the background, knowing full well that the last thing he wanted to be doing was try and make conversation with me.

I stayed quiet for a moment, this was the perfect opportunity to tell him. I let out a frustrated sigh, placing a palm on my face, willing myself to spit it out. My father and I had grown a large wedge between our relationship since my mother had died. I was worried that this would drive us even farther apart, but, having no choice, I dove in.

"Actually," I began, gaining my confidence. "That's why I called, I really need to-"

He cut me off, clearly growing impatient. "Look, no isn't a good time, dear," I heard more shuffling.

Not a good time? I have fucking cancer you prick. I was growing more irritated with him. "Dad," I continued, not wanting to stop. "I have cancer." My heart was racing, waiting for his response.

There was a pause and what sounded like the phone dropping, though I couldn't be sure.

"What?" He whispered, his voice cracking. I cleared my throat, trying to gain my voice back, and repeated what I had said.

"Cancer?" he questioned, as though he had never heard of it before. I nodded, not knowing what else to do. "I mean," I began, realizing he couldn't see me. "Yeah, I have ovarian cancer and I am starting my first round of chemotherapy next week. I just thought you should know." I trailed off on the last part, unsure of what else to say.

"Well, yeah, I need to fucking know." he mumbled, clearly taken back by this news.

The rest of the conversation was full of informing him on all I knew, which took a solid two hours. He asked questions, I answered them to the best of my abilities. I felt like Dr. Kyle, trying to comfort and convince my father that everything was going to be okay, much in the way she had done for me.

"Will you need to have some sort of surgery?" He asked, now fully engaged. I bit my lip, this was actually my biggest fear. The last thing I wanted to do was have people go digging around inside of me.

"Well," I began. "Typically this sort of cancer requires that the surgeons remove my ovaries and womb," I trailed off, not wanting to have this discussion.

I had always wanted kids in my future and if I had that surgery, there was absolutely no chance I would ever birth my own children. It terrified me and I had spent countless tears on this thought. I had been crying so much lately, I was surprised I had any tears left.

"You want children." My father stated, as though there was no question. I let out a sigh, he knew me so well, even after all this time apart.

"Yes," I answered, picking at the ends of my hair. "Dr. Kyle and her team decided that they would first try chemotherapy, to try and kill off as many cells as they could and then, if needed, perform surgery. But, that is my last option."

"Ah," He mumbled. Honestly, I was so ready for this conversation to be over. I just wanted to shower and go to sleep. "I love you, Alaine and I'll be here for you in any way possible."

I was shocked. Did my father really just tell me that he loved me? I felt the tears fill my eyes without willing them to, his little confession warming my heart.

I let out a small laugh, wiping the tears away. "I love you too, dad. Thank you, we will get through this."

My thoughts were pulled back as I heard the door to my room creaking open, Dr. Kyle's head popping in. I sent her a small wave, not having the energy to do much more.

"How are you feeling, dear?" She asked, making her way toward me, checking my vitals and examining the drip bag that was full of my drugs, insuring everything was running smoothly.

"Tired," I laughed, being completely honest. I knew these drugs would have their side effects, but, being this tired was, well, exhausting.

She let out a light laugh, nodding . "Yeah, they'll do that to you." She had begun writing on the clip board located at the end of my bed, checking off various boxes.

"Well," She began, placing the clip board back on its hook and sending me a smile. "Things are going very well it seems and it looks like you'll be able to go home soon." She pointed her pen to the IV in my arm, gaining my attention. "Once this last bag is done, we will keep you an extra day, that way you can gain your bearings and you'll be off and back again in two weeks."

I let out a groan, this was going to wear me down to a pulp. I nodded, seeing her look at me in questioning. "Yeah, sounds good." I mumbled, wanting to roll over and sleep.

She nodded, exiting the room, allowing me to have some peace of mind. I closed my eyes, the exhaustion taking me over. I can't wait to be back in my own bed, all tucked in and cuddling with Buzz. A faint sigh left my lips as I felt around my neck , searching for what I had received as a gift on my birthday.

My fingers found what they were looking for and I latched on to it tightly, wishing the small symbol was true. I desperately missed the boy I was trying so hard to avoid, it was eating me from the inside-out, similar to this cancer. Zack was my cure and it hurt so damn bad to have him gone.

My thoughts were once again dragged to the memory of Zack and I meeting. I felt myself smiling, despite how much I was wanting him to be gone, all my thoughts were consumed by the bassist.

Zack and I met in a normal fashion; no running into one another and profusely apologizing, no knowing each other since we were children, though I knew of him, seeing as we were neighbors, I never knew him on a personal level until about middle school, and our mother's were not best friends. So, essentially, Zachary and I were just two kids going about their lives, in the same neighborhood. It wasn't until the first day of sixth grade that I took notice of the awkward, brown haired boy.

I had always been quiet, never straying too far from my comfort zone. I had a few close friends in elementary school, but, they all eventually moved away and I was left to face middle school alone, the biggest fear for a little girl such as myself. My mother tried to reassure me and give me some confidence, but, to no avail.

The first day of sixth grade was absolute shit. No joke. The day began in the pouring rain, ruining my new, white sneakers and completely destroying all the work my mother had put into braiding my hair into two, cute pigtails, as well as getting mud on my new, floral dress I had gotten just days before.

It got worse when I ended up sitting alone on the school bus due to the fact that everyone else already had their friends from previous years, while I was stuck staring out of the window the entire ride. I got lost within the first few minutes, eventually being found, tears rolling down my face, by a teacher who happened to roaming the halls and being guided to where I needed to go. I assumed this would be my fate the rest of my life.

It was lunch time and to no surprise, I was sitting alone, not having any urge to eat the peanut butter sandwich my mother packed for me. I hated jelly and this was a typical favorite, but, I just wasn't having it today. It wasn't until he actually spoke that I noticed he was even there, something Zack still does to this day.

"Hey," he began, causing me to jump. "I like your lunchbox." He smiled, pointing at the metal box that was decorated with various superhero logos. He then lifted his own lunchbox and I couldn't help but let out a childish laugh, easing some of the nervousness I had been feeling throughout the day.

"I like Batman, but, whatever." He grinned, showing it off like it was some sort of trophy. I shook my head, smiling, still too shy to make conversation.

"You're cute." He stated. I looked up in shock, blushing profusely. He was grinning at me like some sort of Cheshire Cat, his brown hair all disheveled, as though he had just woken up, his 'Blink 182' shirt hanging past his waist, obviously too large for him, and his hazel eyes shining with mischief.

"You're dumb." I mumbled, not knowing what else to say. He seemed taken back for a moment, looking at me in surprise before grinning like a mad-man and nodding.

"I'm Zack and I think we are going to be great friends!" He shouted, catching me off guard. He was laughing and I couldn't help but join in, secretly happy that I now had a new friend.

"I'm Alaine," I introduced, before taking a large bite of my peanut butter sandwich, having gained back my appetite. He nodded and dove into his own lunch, ketchup smearing his face.

"I like it," he mumbled, his mouth full of food. "It's pretty, just like you!" And that was where we met, every day for the rest of the year, indeed becoming best friends and me eventually falling head over heels for the kid.

Nothing gets better than memories, when all you have are memories for friends.