Cancer Sucks

There‘s a lot of things about him that I constantly miss. His heartbeat sounding through my ears, as I laid my head on his chest; it always was my perfect lullaby. The way he made me smile on my darkest days, and refusing to let me out of his sight—even if it was just for a moment. The way he held me close, almost as if he knew he was going to lose me once his heavily tattooed arms loosened. I miss his smell; that unique sent that no other man has. It was like some sort of body wash mixed with cigarettes and sweat—him being the only who could actually pull it off. His eyes, the thing I miss most, the purest of greens, as they looked into mine, shining with love and adoration. Yet, to me now I realize that was just his game…to get a girl like me to fall for his smooth words and dazzling smile. He obviously told me what every girl wants to her: he promised me now and forever; stupidly, I believed him. I gave him everything I ever had and more, and in a blink of an eye it was all ripped from my trembling grasp.

Somehow, no matter what you do or what you don’t do in life you die. You smoke—you die. You drink—you die. You blow dry your hair while taking a shower—you die. You could be the most cautious person in the world: looking both ways, then to the left again; making sure everything is locked up good and tight before you go to sleep; putting extra sunscreen on when you go outside, but in the end no matter what you do death finds you. No matter if you take precautions or not you only end up dead and it’s not fair. So many innocent lives; so many children—babies, grandchildren, daughters, sons— have their lives, their hopes, their dreams just ripped away from them and the only thing they could do is pray to god that the chemo works. How is that fair? In the world we live in today, how is this just? I don’t understand how we can have a centimeter thick phone that’s not even a pound heavy that connects to programs we didn't have ten years ago, yet we still can’t figure out how to cure diseases as deadly and depressing as cancer. It’s not right.

I feel that if there was a room filled with over thirty people at least twenty-eight of them would say they know someone who has had cancer, and inside that twenty-eight there are probably twenty people who know someone who has died from the same disease mentioned.
With all the new advanced technology and programs that have been founded in the past years, how is it that there still no progress for curing this damn disease?

The day my life changed for the worst was nearly two years ago. The leaves were finally changing colors and flu season just started and it felt like all of our friends were coming down with something—Zacky included. I did the normal routine for when one of us gets sick: cold compress, warm blankets, soup—the works. Yet nothing was working and I started to grow worried.

December 14th was the day he first coughed up blood and it was also the day I knew nothing was ever going to be the same. After that day, it felt like someone accidentally sat on the remote and everything was going so fast I thought I had whiplash. I think we met with at least ten (10) specialists and six of them said it wasn't too serious and that many others that walked through their doors had it dramatically worse, and that Zacky should count his stars because he was lucky—lucky how? So lucky that he had cancer at the age of twenty-seven and it was slightly not as serious as someone else? How in the world can anyone justify that as lucky?

However, those six specialists were wrong and by the time Zacky and I settled with Dr. Green the cancer spread rapidly throughout his body and our once high hopes were dwindling. Before I knew it Zacky was fifty pounds lighter, his skin became as white as a sheet of paper (the tattoos he was ever so proud of were now faded and mal looking), and his once choppy hair was no longer present—it had fallen out in chunks after he had his second chemo treatment. The green eyes that I loved so much were now dull and grey. I knew he tried to be positive for my sake, to be strong for the both of us and to prove that he wasn't scared, but he just couldn't do it anymore…the pain and fear of a tomorrow not promised was too much. If it wasn't the cancer kicking his ass, it was the chemo (or the hundreds of medications they give you to help with the side effects of the chemo).

It had been about a year since he was first diagnosed…I remember this day like it happened two minutes ago. Zachary and I were in the waiting room of our health and wellness center, waiting for the nurse to call him in for his check up; usually when we’re at these appointments Zacky’s jittery but today he seemed oddly at ease.

“Amelia, I know it’s not easy, but I’m going to die and you can’t stop it,” Zacky said with complete levelness, almost as if he was talking about the football game that was on the night before. To say I was shocked would be an understatement, had he given up?

Even though I couldn't see my reflection I knew my eyes were filled to the brim with tears that I tried desperately to hold back as I whispered, “Zacky, please don’t talk like that…the doctor could have good news for us today.”

Zachary gave me a grim smile as he reached to hold my hand. “Mia, I know my time is coming and I've accepted it, please accept it too,” he murmured as he ran his thumb over the back of my hand, “I’m not saying I want to leave you, because I sure as hell don’t, but I can’t stop God if he wants me.”

I couldn't stop the tears as they spilled out of my eyes and down my cheeks. “But why now? Why can’t God choose someone else?” I cried.

“Mia, you and I both know God has his reasons even if they’re not clear at this moment. I know this is hard for you, it’s hard for me too, but always remember I love you, okay?” he said while he cracked one of the smiles I desperately loved despite his own tears escaping his eyes.

Before I could reply to him, a nurse in light pink scrubs called from the door frame that separated the waiting area and the private rooms: “Zachary James, the doctor will see you now.” Wiping the tears from my eyes, I gripped Zacky’s handed tighter as we followed the nurse into the small cream colored room.

And before I knew it Zacky was gone.