Every now and then some words from a song come to my mind and make me feel strong again and I know that I can take life on.  Sometimes I feel so gosh darn tired.  Of everything and everyone.  Not feeling understood, feeling overwhelmed, physically and mentally and emotionally.  And sometimes it gets to a point where I just want to lay down, stare at nothing, and do well…  nothing. 

But I keep going back to a memory from my cancer days.  I guess because its very tangible for me to believe that since I’m a cancer survivor that I can keep those moments as a safeguard for the times when I feel like giving up. 

I remember laying on my bed.  It was a summer day.  The sun was coming through the window.  I was hot and very uncomfortable but I couldn’t do anything and I didn’t want to.  I was laying on my stomach one arm hanging over the edge my cheek sweaty and hot against the sheet.   My whole body ached with pain but also with intense fatigue.  I don’t think that makes any sense but it was almost like the fatigue was just as painful as all the muscle spasms and bone aches. 

 I could hear my sister walk in and she moved in front of my line of vision and stood there for a second checking on me it seemed.  Then she moved over to our dresser and I could hear her fiddling with our CD player.  The lid opened, a disc was put in, the slight spinning and then she tapped her way through the tracks until she found the song she was looking for.

Music started.   Then Stephanie walked back over in front of me.  Then her voice melded almost perfectly with Lenny Kravitz as she sang

Flowers for Zoe
Love for Zoe
Angels and rainbows
All kinds of things you can call your own

Garden for Zoe
And oceans for Zoe
Jungle gym playgrounds
All kinds of things for you to explore

Flowers for Zoe
Love for Zoe
Angels and rainbows
All kinds of things you can call your own
Yeah yeah yeah

God is for Zoe
And heaven’s for Zoe
Oh can you believe
That everything is waiting to unfold ?
You can call your own
You can call your own
You can call your own

I loved it of course.  But the awful thing was at the time my fatigue was so intense that I couldn’t even muster the energy to smile or say “thank you”.  I just laid there.  Stephanie came over and kissed my cheek.  Whispered “I love you”  and walked out of the room. 

I just wanted to share that with you, i guess because there are going to be times in our lives where we are completely worn down to the point of complete fatigue and we feel like we can’t go on.  But god will always in someway or another give you hope to go on.  Even if at the time you can’t show your appreciation for whatever reason… its still there ready to be drawn upon. 

Hey so I know you just heard about my blog and are coming here to read some of the things that I’ve written about having childhood cancer and an upcoming post about how your company played a part in it!

Thank you so much for coming over and reading… to read any of my cancer posts click on the tag “cancer” i.e. like the one right under the title of this post!

I’m so excited to work any way I can with you!!!!

-Shellie

Dear Readers-

I would love and appreciate all your comment love because I’m trying to make something big happen and I would love to show this company how many people have got my back and ready to help share the love to kids fighting cancer THIS CHRISTMAS SEASON!!!

My favorite scripture @ 2:02 Isaiah 41:10

If you could pray this holiday season for all the children who are fighting cancer. Treatments before holidays are usually pretty intense since the dr’s want to do some damage to the cancer so that during the time off the cancer won’t be able to gain any ground. Thank you so much.

Love,
Shell

So I’ve been doing NaNoWriMo for like 5 days.  It has been very emotional and crazy.  Not only am I putting extreme pressure on myself  to be creative but also while trying to continue my day to day activities of checking FB whenever possible and eating bagels.  Its so hard to fit writing in the mix!  woe is me.  

one  cool thing is almost daily I receive pep talks from other NaNoWriMo writers who are trying to pump us up to keep WRITING!!!! because Its so freaking hard.  I almost give up every minute.  I love getting pep talks.  Everyone needs a little “YOU CAN DO IT!”  So its cool coming from writers in the same boat as me saying “So what if you are writing pure junk that should belong in the fiction section of Teen Tiger Beat… so Freaking what!  you are doing something that is important to you… which is writing and being creative.  YOU CAN DO IT”  and then my heart starts beating real fast and I’m like “hell yeah i can”

I love pep talks so much that I decided to write a little tiny bit of one to all of you today. 

I have had my fair share of experiencing life’s butt hole moments.    And almost every day I wake up in a semi bad mood.  But one thing is that I try to keep things in perspective.  The other day a friend asked me if I would go back and change the way I grew up and I said “No”  and she was like “What?” and I smiled and said “I loved my childhood”  some crazy stuff happened.  My life has not been a cookie cutter Leave it to Beaver awesome wholesome perfect  life.  but honestly I wouldn’t trade it for anyone elses. 

Do you remember during my photo montage of my cancer pictures there’s a picture of me at Christmas time and in the picture is a picture of a blue bike in the background?  The caption for that photo is “My first bike!  Huge Story about it!!!” 

Here’s the story.  We were very poor that year.  Some people donated gifts to us.   Some of them were new and some of them were used.  I could tell the bike was used because there was scratches and nicks in the paint.  The seat looked a little worn to.  But other than that it was in pretty good shape.  I loved that bike more than anything.  I had never had a bike and at 14 years old it was like a dream come true.  Of course since it was Idaho I wasn’t able to go ride it really that far because of the snow, and the temperature being so freaking windy and cold.   But I was able to get bundled up and ride it up and down the road in front of our house a couple of times. 

My first day back to school after Christmas break was huge for me (i had been in remission for 2 months now)  and feeling okay.  I remember sitting in some sort of trailer classroom and a couple of kids around me were asking me questions before class started.  Like how was I feeling, how was Christmas, etc.  I felt very excited to have people around me and giving me attention and I talked, joked, and answered questions.  One thing I said was “And I got a Bike!!!!”  Everyone was like cool!  One girl in the group who was a Rigby town girl that I didn’t know that well kind of looked at me weird.  She then said in front of everyone “I know its my old one” 

My hands are shaking as I write this because its so hard feeling that feeling again.  My eyes teared up and I almost started to cry.  I really hated her in that moment.  Everyone felt kinda bad and kind of drifted off back  to their seats.  I stared at my desk for the rest of class for sure that if I looked up everyone would be staring at me with pity.  Look there’s the little poor chemo girl who got rich girls old bike. 

On the way home I thought about how much I didn’t like that girl and how much I hated that bike.  But then when I got home and went and looked at that bike I couldn’t hate it.  I loved it.  It was a great bike.  I couldn’t help still feeling excited about it.  I was still hurt that she had said that… but I didn’t think it should keep me from being happy about having something I always wanted.  

Everything in life is going to be touched with something negative.  Your family, your job, your health, your marriage, your friends etc…

But if its something you hold near and dear to your heart you can’t let that negativity keep you from loving it as much as you want. 

You better believe that when summer came around and the sun came out making every day a perfect bike riding day that I was out there going up and down that stretch of road wearing my neon bike shorts and black sports training bra (i was trying to look cute ya know) like there was no tomorrow and I was the happiest girl in the world. 

 Don’t let old hurt, old pain, new hurt or new pain keep you from loving and being excited about everything you want in this life. 

because :)

“YOU CAN DO IT!” 

So I joined a writers group here in Atlanta.  It’s amazing to belong to something that feels so adult and cool.  There’s about 10-12 people that come.  We meet every other Monday  at a coffee shop in Roswell.  Which is about 20 minutes south of where I live.  You bring stuff that you are working on,  enough copies to go around, and then you read.  And then people critique you. 

My first time there I read a couple of my cancer posts.  After I got done I looked around and everyone just had this look on their faces like “Holy Freak”  They had some great comments and suggestions.  With one being that I don’t post anymore cancer stories until I’m done with it as a work.  Being that I probably hold back knowing that you as an audience know me so personally and sometimes that its scary to let it all out.  So for the time being I’m going to write, write and write some more about my cancer but it just won’t be available until its completed.  That being said I need to let you know something that I’ve been wanting to tell you.  

I always feel that I’m going to die any day.  Maybe because I tend to be a little over dramatic.  Maybe because of my history.  Whatever it is I always feel the need to tie up loose ends.  And if anything happens to me before I get my cancer story out… I would want you to know at least this one part of it.  Because I feel that its the miracle of my life.   

Mid November 1994

A Friday Morning

I had been cancer free for 2 weeks.  I was still skinny.  Still bald.  Still very sick.  We had made the trip back to Primary Children’s for a check up to see how everything was going.  I had to drink the CT dye again, get that spinal tap again, more blood work, and more x rays.  After a half day of testing I was sent out to the waiting room while the doctors kept my mom back with them.  Then after about 30 minutes they brought me back. 

In 2 weeks of being off chemotherapy a growth had appeared in my lungs and was about the size of a golf ball.  I saw the scan of my lungs against the lighted screen.  My eyes had seen enough scans of my body to know what looked right and what didn’t.  The fuzzy white blob at the bottom of my left lung didn’t look right.  The cancer had come back. 

They told us to go home and have the weekend to ourselves and that we could come back on Monday and we would talk about where to go from here.  No one explained it to me but I could see it all over their faces.  I was not going to make it.  My body was as beaten down as it could get.  I had no strength left to battle another round of chemo. 

I waited in the car in the parking lot.  I almost feel like I’m there right now. Laying in the back seat, door hanging open so the breeze could come through, my legs hanging over the edge.  Right up against the Wasatch mountains, the fall sun being baked into the maroon velvety interior.   I stared up into the car’s ceiling and for some reason I couldn’t stop thinking about a kitten my family owned when I was 7 years old.  Kylie. 

 She was named after Kylie Minogue.  You know “C’mon baby do the loco-motion”  Well Kylie was the cutest  kitten in the world.  We brought her up with us when we visited some family  friends up in Liberty Utah.  When we went to go inside their house we left her in the car.  A little while later when we went back to get her she was gone. Being kids we ran off to do something else. We found out later some lady who was also at this friends house had got into our car, had not seen Kylie in there, and as she shut the door Kylie was trying to jump out and it squashed her head.  I don’t know what happened to her.  But one of the adults probably scooped her up and threw her in the field or something.  I couldn’t stop thinking that afternoon that she had never had a proper kitty funeral and that made me really sad. 

Over the weekend I rested and hung out with my family.  No one talked about the situation.  I don’t even know if Stephanie and Austin were told there was a situation.  But I thought about the situation the whole time.  Which was that my life was coming to an end. 

Every time I did something I thought  “That is the last time I’ll do that”… “That’s the last time I’ll watch Mrs. Doubtfire”  “This is the last time I’ll be able to pet Cindy” ”This is the last time I’ll read Little Women”   

On Sunday I wanted to touch everything.  Press my palms against every object that made up my life.  I remember standing in our yard.  The weather was warm and crisp.  Like it was Thanksgiving and an impromptu game of flag football was going to start right where I stood.  A big bunch of college boys would come running toward me and I would be crushed and become the dust under their feet. 

I walked over to my aspen tree and pressed my forehead against its trunk.  Then I wrapped my arms around it and hugged it as hard as I could.  I didn’t have the energy to climb it, to sit in the lawn chair that I had hauled up so many years before which was balanced between two of the limbs so perfectly.  This tree had been my escape.  And I was going to miss it. 

I touched the picnic table where Stephanie and I lip synced b-52 songs, opened and closed the mail box a couple of times and then took a long walk out in the fields behind my house.   and thought “This is the last time I will walk out here” 

I feel silly to admit that I did this even though I was only a kid.  But honestly that Sunday felt like my last day on earth.  And I didn’t know what else to do with it.  It was one of the saddest days I’ve ever lived. 

The next morning when we drove down to Salt Lake I prayed the whole way.  “Please don’t let me die.  I don’t want to go.  I just want to live more.”  Over and over. Over and over.  “Please don’t let me die.”

I stared out the window and watched the hills and fields pass along with all the moments that had made up my life and all the moments I had imagined what I wanted my life to be,  a singer, a dancer, a movie star. More importantly a wife, a mother. 

When we got to the hospital I went into further testing.  More x rays.  More dye.  They wanted a full CT scan of just my lungs this time.  More blood work.  After all the testing was done my mom and I went to go get some lunch while they looked over everything.  We were quiet as we ate and then made our way back to the oncology office waiting room. 

While we were waiting Dr. Bruggars suddenly came rushing out to us which was unusual since usually a nurse called us back.  Her face was so overcome with happiness and excitement that it literally shocked my heart.  I could feel all the energy of life coming back into me. Something was up. My mom and I both stood suddenly and Dr. Bruggars just rushed to me and held me.  But not for long because then the hug turned into tugging and she pulled us back into an examination room. 

A scan of my lungs was up against a lighted screen.  The blue black x ray looked miraculous.  Like it wasn’t an image of my lungs, but instead the virgin mary and a tear would coming running out of her eye any second. 

“It’s gone.”  Dr Bruggars said before we even sat down.  And from a distance I could see that my lungs looked perfectly healthy.  No white lumpy growth in the lower left lung. 

They couldn’t explain it. 

 The cancer had been there on Friday. Not just been there - floating around harmlessly.  It had BEEN THERE -  a force to be reckoned with the growth it had already succeeded in the 2 weeks.  The CT scans had shown it, the x rays, even my blood count showed increased white cells proving that the cancer had returned. 

On Monday it was gone.  Completely.  My blood count was normal, my x rays normal, my CT normal. 

Not many people know this story. I think my sister, my brother, and of course my mom since she was there.  Because truly its a miracle what happened. and sometimes miracles to this extent seem hokey and made up.  

 I love my life.  Not just as it is right now but everything that has happened.   I love the people in my life.  I’ve had a lot of hurt in my life from the people I love most.  But that just comes with the territory of loving I guess.  It’s okay to forgive.  It’s okay to move on.  (ps Celine Dion just called and wants the lyrics back to all the songs she’s ever sung!) anyway Thanks for being in my life.  I really mean that.  Everything I am is because of family and friends supporting me and accepting me. 

As we drove home I don’t remember much which means I probably laid in the back seat and slept for the 3 hour drive to Idaho. 

When we got home I walked back to the bedroom Stephanie and I shared.  My head was bent down, my chin tucked in almost to my neck.  My neck felt strained, like I had slept bad except instead of not being able to turn it side to side I couldn’t move it up and down.  My head was throbbing and I had enough energy to climb into bed to sleep some more. 

Not much time had passed because when I next opened my eyes it was still very light outside.  Two things woke me up:  The need to throw up and the strong ache in my calves.  I felt the need to move; like when you have to go pee really bad and the only thing that will make the uncomfortable feeling go away is to do a little dance. 

I tried to inch forward slowly off my bed and then I tried to go faster when I realized my stomach wasn’t going to be patient. but my body was to worn down to go any faster and I opted to hang my head over the edge of the bed and threw up all over the floor.  Each heave sent a burst of white hot pain to my brain.  I was able to stop and tried to catch my breath but again the need to throw up was there and the need to move away from the  ache forming in my legs.  I scooted down to the bottom of the bed to avoid the throw up and rolled my legs off so that I was kneeling beside my bed. 

 I started to cry, the sour smell of the throw up was inches away from me and I tried so hard to tell myself to move, to go into the bathroom, all I wanted was to feel the cool white porcelain of the toilet against my cheek.  As I knelt the ache in my calves was building into something larger.  I don’t even know how to describe it.  An intense burning, razor like, throbbing pain.  I needed someone  so I cried out even louder.  Then Stephanie was next to me kneeling beside me, her arms around my shoulders.   

Most people are scared of seeing someone in intense pain.  Sometimes they react either by leaving the situation or by getting angry at the person in pain.  My sister Stephanie who was only 16 years old did neither.  She asked me what was wrong.  My legs felt like they were on fire and I tried to get away from the edge of the bed.  Seeing my need Stephanie helped pull me back so we were both sitting in the middle of the floor. 

I moaned, I cried, I tried to knead the muscles in my calves.  Stephanie batted my hands away and tried to massage where my hands had been.  Her touch wasn’t helping though and now I was getting angry.  This is why they say don’t ever poke a injured bear with a stick because even though that bear is injured it can transform that pain into rage and rise against you and chew your face off.  I know Stephanie was trying to help but I couldn’t stop myself.

“STOP TOUCHING ME!”  I screamed in her face.

She didn’t flinch and didn’t take offense. 

She got up as fast as she could to the bathroom and then I heard water rushing into the tub.  Then she was back to my side, I’m not sure if she helped me walk to the bathroom , but Stephanie does have crazy man strength, so I wouldn’t be surprised if she had scooped me up.  She undressed me and then helped me into the warm water. 

I don’t remember the timing of events after that.  I remember the pain, in my neck, in my head, in every bone and every cell.  Within hours my muscles had curled up and tightened to a point that I couldn’t move.  I  laid on my side in my bed my knees almost to my chest, my arms curled up against them, my wrists bent forward, even my fingers were cramped at every joint in pain. If there was a lineup of 5 crusty petriefied mummies and me I don’t think you’d be able to pick me out. 

I couldn’t sleep.  I laid there hour after hour not knowing when it was going to end.  It scared me.  It kind of scares me  to think of it now.  I’m not sure if I want to go down into it anymore because it kind of depresses me thinking of how pathetic it must have been to feel that way.  To feel like life wasn’t worth living.  Then I’m not sure what time it was but it was late, it was dark outside, my mom called our home teachers. 

I was carried out to the couch and they gave me a blessing.  I don’t know remember what they said.  I remember they were kneeling down next to the couch and I was facing inward towards the cushions.  My eyes were open and while they prayed I stared straight ahead into the brown, orange, and yellow fibers of a throw pillow. 

When they said “Amen” the pain left.  I kid you not.  I felt no pain.  My muscles were still cramped, my body curled up like a little potato bug but I felt relief… not just a little… complete relief.  My heart felt intense love.  I haven’t forgotten that.  Although sometimes I lose focus of that feeling.  I know that God gave me that relief because he loved me.  I fell into a deep sleep and didn’t wake up again until morning.

To be continued. 

A spinal tap, also called a lumbar puncture, removes a tiny amount of cerebrospinal fluid (CSF) for laboratory analysis. CSF is the clear, watery fluid that surrounds the brain and spinal cord. Spinal taps can be used to help detect or treat diseases such as cancer, and are also used to measure CSF pressure.

A spinal tap may be used to help diagnose or treat certain cancers:

• Lymphoma. Lymphoma cells often spread into the spinal fluid, allowing physicians to diagnose diseases such as non-Hodgkin lymphoma (THAT’s ME) and eye lymphoma (which can spread to the brain).

Spinal taps also may be used to administer chemotherapy medications designed to treat or prevent brain and central nervous system cancers. In this procedure, known as intrathecal chemotherapy, the drug is injected directly into the CSF and flows freely to the brain and spinal cord.

Intrathecal chemotherapy may be beneficial for some patients to counteract the natural barrier between the bloodstream and the central nervous system. Chemotherapy given with this method may be used to destroy leukemia or lymphoma cells, as well as reduce their growth in the spinal fluid. It may be provided on a daily or weekly schedule depending on the patient’s condition.

Well that about sums up why I had so many spinal taps.   I’m guessing around 20 or so.  Usually they would take place right when I was checked in.  Before I even went upstairs to the Oncology floor I would go back to a examination room, take my shirt off, lay in fetal position and then some doctor would handle the procedure.  Sometimes I would get one maybe the next day after I started a treatment and a doctor would come to my room and say it was Spinal Tap time!!! and then I would do jazz hands and we would skip off to a procedure room down the hall.  

One time this doctor came in and I went with him and when I walked into the procedure room there was a group of interns standing there ready to watch.  It was really uncomfortable but what was I suppose to do?  So I got in fetal position and felt like some sort of circus freak show. 

I understand now that they were there to learn, and by them learning and having that experience with me, that it would continue on to help the next child down the road, and then the next, and then the next through as many generations as neccessary  until one day cancer will be cured.  I wish I could have understood it then, because maybe that pain of them watching me in such a vulnerable moment wouldn’t have been necessary.

The spinal taps were always excruciating. My skin was numb so I never felt the initial pinch  but then the needle would go in between my muscles that were corded around my spine and sweat would already start beading up on my forehead as I tried to lay so still and not move although my body only wanted to buck free of that pain.  I would grip the nurses hand so tight and I would cry.  Every time.  It would last about 7-10 minutes as the fluid was collected and the chemo injected.  It seemed like eternity. 

One day as I was getting ready to check out after a chemo treatment my nurse came in and told me that I hadn’t received my spinal tap treatment yet.  So I went with her to the procedure room.  There was two doctors.  One that I was pretty comfortable with and an intern.  The one doctor introduces me to the intern and says that he’ll be doing the spinal tap and is that okay?  Again what am I suppose to say so I say yes. 

I laid down and the intern rubbed numbing ointment on my vertebrae and then they all talked about different things, things that mattered in their lives, while they got the rest of the equipment ready.  After about 10 minutes the intern wiped the ointment off and tapped my spine with his finger.

“Can you feel that?”  his voice sounded a little nervous

“No” I said

My nurse came to my side and I held her hand.  I remember looking up into her face and she smiled at me and winked.  I closed my eyes and waited. 

I could hear the doctor moving to stand behind the intern.  Then the initial prick of the needle.  I heard the slight pop of it entering my skin and then it moved further into my muscles.  The pain took over and I tightened my grip on the nurses hand.  She held on as I tried to transfer it to her.  Then it got worse.  Worse then I’d ever felt and my voice found the pain and tried to release it in a scream.  Tears flowed down my face and mixed with the sweat.  I tried so hard not to sob because knowing that once my body started to move it wouldn’t want to stop.

The intern was scared.  He said something to the doctor and the doctor reassured him in a quiet voice and told him how to move the needle around through my muscles until he found the pocket of fluid.  The needle moved and the attack continued, wave after wave hit me.  I bit my lip, I clawed the nurses hands, I was scared that it would never end and the pain would get to a point when eventually it would end in death. 

Finally I heard the intern release his breath as he withdrew the needle.  Fluid was collected. Chemicals had been infused.  Mission complete.  My body felt the release and twitched involuntary and I continued to cry.  I tried to roll onto my stomach and bury my head into the table so I could l release my cries and not be as loud. 

They felt bad, and guilty.  I could feel it in the room all aound us and because of the guilt they didn’t want to comfort me.  They wanted me to take it back.  Tell them it didn’t hurt, that it wasn’t their faults. 

The intern came around to my side and he was holding a little laminated sign. 

He told me to point to how I felt.  I can imagine a class called “Pain Scale 101″ that they give to doctors and they teach them if a patient is allowed to point to a sign that shows how bad they feel then the pain will be magically transferred into the cute little frowny face and be felt no more. 

I pointed to “10 HURTS WORST” and looked him in the eyes.  Take it.  I felt pain under your hands.  Say I’m sorry I hurt you.  Say it. 

He smiled sweetly  and says “I’m sure it wasn’t that bad”

That’s when I needed a  man in the room who loved me so much that he would knock this guys teeth out for saying that.  He would grab the intern by the collar of his white coat and throw him against the wall and say between gritted teeth

“LISTEN YOU SWEAR WORD SHE SAID IT SWEAR WORD HURTS!  APOLOGIZE NOW!” 

 and then shove him to the floor and come to the table where I lay, gather me in his arms and take me away.  We would drive all night to Mexico for alternate treatment where spinal taps are non existent, the only thing that would be on the plan would be to lie on the beach sipping fruity drinks and holding hands. 

The intern continued smiling at me and held the sign at my eye level.  He wanted me to point to a lesser pain but I couldn’t.  I closed my eyes and just wanted to go, get out of here, go home.  The intern walked away dejected, he had wanted me to forgive him but I couldn’t when he had never wanted to take the responsibility of what he had done.  

My head hurt from crying so hard.  The nurse helped me up and back to my room.  I laid on the bed and watched TV until it was time to go.  As I walked out to the car with my mom the headache got worse. 

To be continued.

The nurse passed her badge over the sensor next to the door.  The door lock clicked open.  She pushed against it, walked in and looked back at the girl to follow.

The girl didn’t have the energy to move.  It had been already been taken when she had to sit herself up in the bed.  Then she had to swing her legs over and put her feet on the floor.  The floor was cold.  It was painful to the touch.  Her skin was so thin.  Even the soles of her feet.  But she did try to stand and then winced with the shock of coldness.  The nurse noticed.  “Honey I’m sorry.  Here sit down.  I’ll be right back”  She came back carrying a package of light blue slipper socks.  She ripped the plastic open with her teeth and then put each sock on delicately.  The girl tried to stand again.  The floor wasn’t cold.  But the socks were painful.  Each dot of tread pressed into her skin like a needle prick with every step.

Years later when the girl was a woman and was giving birth to her first child a nurse picked up a bare foot that was in a stirrup and tried to put those light blue slipper socks on her feet.  In mid contraction the girl now woman yelled “GET THOSE OFF MY FEET”  It startled the nurse.  Who was probably use to laboring woman yelling, but not at her, and not about light blue slipper socks.  The woman felt really bad for yelling.  But she hated those socks.  The nurse took them back off and threw them away.

The nurse and the girl shuffled down the hall together.  The girl held onto the IV pole for balance.  The nurse held on so she could push it along.  The girl felt tired.  She felt old.  She had the urge to stand as straight as she could and unhunch her shoulders even just for a minute.

They stopped.  They started again.  They stopped.  They started again.  The nurse was very patient.   Then the nurse arrived at the door.  She pushed the door open and walked inside the room.  The room looked like it belonged in a concentration camp.  It was cold.  Sterile.  White but gray shadows were everywhere.  Light but dark at the same time.  There were no windows.  A flourescent bulb glared light on the walls.

The girl couldn’t step forward.  She put pressure against the IV pole but the wheels wouldn’t roll.  The nurse kicked the doorstop down and came for her.  The nurse pulled a little on the IV machine.  It moved forward but the girl didn’t which cause her IV line to tug against her body.  A burning sensation hit her chest and she stepped forward to relieve the tugging.

They stood in the room and the girl wanted to sit down.  Needed to sit down.  But there was no real place to do so.  In front of her was tiled walls, below her was tiled floor, to her right were some hooks, to the left a long white bathtub.  It was filling up with water but it looked too low and too narrow to be sat upon.

The nurse moved behind her and began untying the ties that held her gown closed.  She pushed the gown over the girls shoulders and it slipped down the front of her arms.  If you were standing there you would be able to see all of her ribs and her spine pushing against her thin skin.  You could reach out and feel the bones, bumpy and sharp like it was a toddlers texture book and it  would read in black letters “This 13 year old girl is 70 lbs!”  And the next page would have a picture of a healthy 110 lb 13 year old with shiny hair.  It would be a book of opposites.

The weight of the gown snagged the line and again there was pulling against the needle in her chest.  She bent forward so the needle wouldn’t come out.  “Oh honey I’m so sorry”  The nurse reached her arms around her,  the nurses  chin dug into the back of the girls bald head and she grabbed at the gown.  The nurse pulled the gown back around the girls shoulders and then swiftly undid the snaps on the right sleeve.  Then carefully the nurse manuvered the gown off the left arm.

Her legs were badly bruised.  Two days ago she had been taking a walk outside the hospital and had fallen.  She had felt a little faint and tried to catch herself on a bench but didn’t quiet make it.  When her head hit the cement (well half cement half edge of the grass) she laid there and threw up.  Pink strawberry milk foamed from her mouth into the grass, into the dirt edge between the grass and cement, and the more it foamed the more it poured back onto her, into her ears, and down her neck.

The nurse pulled her underwear down her legs and the girl lifted one foot and then the other for the nurse.  Then while the nurse was stooped down there she tapped one foot and took the slipper sock off and then tapped the other foot and took the other off.  The tile was painfully cold.

The nurse leaned over to turn the water off.  The girl pushed her pole towards the tub and the nurse stood up and took the girls elbow and the girl lifted her leg over the edge.  The water was warm.  Steamy.  Clean.  She felt relief and strength.  She  was able to smile at the nurse.  The other leg went over and she slid her body down into the water.

The nurse unclicked her IV line.  “I’ll be right back honey”  The girl nodded and closed her eyes.  All her pain seemed to float away.

Pain is a funny thing.  It’s almost indescribable.  It’s like trying to describe  heartache.  You can say “my heart hurts”  because you can’t describe the time that you were at the grocery store late at night and the wheel of the cart is scraping against the floor and you feel so alone and then a song comes on over the loudspeakers and you stop right where you are and tears well up in your eyes and not only your heart hurts but your throat too.  Like a little bone is stuck there and if only you could dig your finger down and hook it with your nail and pull it free.  But you can’t so you stand there and cry standing next to juice boxes and fruit roll ups and a old man comes toward you and you make eye contact and he gives you a smile.  So you smile back and then you understand that heartache is unavoidable.  Which is exactly how pain is.  Indescribable and unavoidable.

The girl stretches in the water.  Warm and content.  Her hip bones don’t feel the pain of the pressure of her body pressing into the mattress hour after hour.  Her back muscles are beginning to loosen from being so tense from all the heaving and vomiting from the past 48 hours.  Her arms are pinned down against her legs on each side and she moves her wrists back and forth like little flippers.  Like she’s a mermaid.

Then just as suddenly as she feels relief, the heat of the water starts getting to her.  The girl feels faint and her heart is beating too fast.  She needs to get out of the bath.  Her eyes open and she brings her elbows up on the edge of the bathtub to escape.  She looks down and sees her chest.  Her heart is beating against her skin.  The water is red.  She’s bleeding.  She can feel her blood draining from her.  Her head is in an instant headache.  She feels like she can’t breathe.  She’s dying.  Her elbows slip back down and her arms go back down to her side.

She has never felt close to death before.   She has never felt so much sadness.  That’s all she’s feels.  She doesn’t see anyone’s faces or remembers any memories.  She just feels sad.

She stares up at the ceiling.  Her eyes follow to where the ceiling meets the wall to her left the white tiles form a pattern of squares and gray grout trails.  Then she notices a little silver cord with a plastic knob hanging on the end.  It’s attached to a plastic plate with a red cross emblem.  If she pulls the cord the nurse will come and see her dying.

She reaches her hand up and watches it move toward the cord.   She tugs on the cord and the red cross lights up.

Then the girl leans her head back against the back wall and waits to die.

The door opens.  Although the girl doesn’t open her eyes she knows that the nurse can see her little pale body immersed in the red water.  She can tell its a terrifying site because the room is filled with the nurses gasp.  Suddenly strong fingers are digging into the girls armpits and she’s being pulled out of the bathtub, water splashes over the edge onto the nurses white sneakers.  Another nurse comes rushing in, fingers are digging into her armpits and now arms are around her stomach.  They lift the girl into a standing position.

“She’s bleeding”  “Where is it coming from”  And almost instantly they recognize that the blood that is dripping all over their scrubs, all over their shoes, all over the white tile is coming from her line.

The small tubing that comes from her heart so that chemo can be administered without going through her arm veins, had a little clamp and the clamp had not been clicked shut when the nurse unhooked her IV.  and  because the clamp hadn’t been shut there was no pressure  put against it which allowed the blood to pump out of her and into the water with every heart beat.

The nurse clamped the line shut and swore at herself.  And the other nurse grabbed a towel and pulled it around the girl and carried her back to her room and the other nurse went and got warm blankets and piled them on the girl.  And the girl felt very warm and went to sleep.  And didn’t die.

the end

here’s some pictures that i put together for ya’ll. and since I couldn’t figure out how to post a song into my slideshow please humor me and start the miley cyrus vid right before viewing the pics. Its one of my favorite songs.