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I remember it clearly, though it happened about three months ago. I received a text…
"I have cancer."
Signed Marielle.
A dear friend of seven years to-date was already known to have inherited seemingly every genetic disorder known to mankind. She was my sister, my closest relationship founded through the school years back when I first moved to her district. Later on I would playfully argue that such serious news was not made for unrealistic, digital text.
But at the time, I wanted to take action—and fast! To my luck, I happened to be visiting the hospital that week for blood work.
Her hospital room was like how the books described it: white and cold. I could blame the vents that had to be left open and the air on full-blast, but instead, I like to see it as a metaphor to her quiet pain. The needles were injected in various regions of her arm and a huge band-aid was plastered to her neck. A day earlier, they [the doctors] had cut into her lymph node to check the cancer's progression rate. But even with all that, and that was only the beginning, Marielle was being strong and trying to still smile. We talked for a while and laughed over dumb things, like always. I left.
Those three months proceeded oddly. It was hard for me to visit her when she was hospitalized so often for her chemo treatments, but still through her texts, she told me her struggles and how she was trying to stay strong.
I found out recently, that if all goes well, she will only have one more chemo treatment before radiation and then remission.
But up to that point, because of the distance, I’ve kept in touch through text. At home, at school, during lunch—all her friends and boyfriend keep in touch this way. We send her jokes and pictures and wishes to get well so that she can be back with us, and bring back her own personal version of fun that we all miss.
It's funny to think that the bad news came through a digital text and that, at the same time, we keep countering it with humor and wit to keep her strong. I'm still waiting for the day that text comes through from the hospital, saying…
"I'm cured."
Signed Marielle.
Plus! Love to sing, dance, act or play an instrument? Shoot over a video of your star-worthy performances! It could be featured right here!
"I have cancer."
Signed Marielle.
A dear friend of seven years to-date was already known to have inherited seemingly every genetic disorder known to mankind. She was my sister, my closest relationship founded through the school years back when I first moved to her district. Later on I would playfully argue that such serious news was not made for unrealistic, digital text.
But at the time, I wanted to take action—and fast! To my luck, I happened to be visiting the hospital that week for blood work.
Her hospital room was like how the books described it: white and cold. I could blame the vents that had to be left open and the air on full-blast, but instead, I like to see it as a metaphor to her quiet pain. The needles were injected in various regions of her arm and a huge band-aid was plastered to her neck. A day earlier, they [the doctors] had cut into her lymph node to check the cancer's progression rate. But even with all that, and that was only the beginning, Marielle was being strong and trying to still smile. We talked for a while and laughed over dumb things, like always. I left.
Those three months proceeded oddly. It was hard for me to visit her when she was hospitalized so often for her chemo treatments, but still through her texts, she told me her struggles and how she was trying to stay strong.
I found out recently, that if all goes well, she will only have one more chemo treatment before radiation and then remission.
But up to that point, because of the distance, I’ve kept in touch through text. At home, at school, during lunch—all her friends and boyfriend keep in touch this way. We send her jokes and pictures and wishes to get well so that she can be back with us, and bring back her own personal version of fun that we all miss.
It's funny to think that the bad news came through a digital text and that, at the same time, we keep countering it with humor and wit to keep her strong. I'm still waiting for the day that text comes through from the hospital, saying…
"I'm cured."
Signed Marielle.
By: Amanda M.
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