Cancer

• Paige Pieper, Grade 8, St Peter Claver College
• Short Story
• 2016

Excellence Award in the 'Top Secret 2016' competition

Cancer. The word rang through my ears and my mind. My finger’s tingled, my eyes wandered. A nurse followed close by me, escorting me. We turned a corner and I peered into a room as we walked past. I flicked around, only to see that we were at the surgery room. The nurse pushed open the doors and I cautiously stepped in. I heard the doors viciously swing shut behind me. I was alone with the nurse and surgeon. Bright lights flickered as I felt a mask strapped onto my face. Gas swam in through my lungs, slowly easing me to sleep.
I woke with my eyesight blurry. As I sat up a throbbing pain hit my side. I ran my hand down and rubbed my fingers against a deep scar and stitches. My eyesight was still blurry, but it was easy enough to see the operation was a failure. Everyone seemed disappointed. My family was notified and I was signed as a new permanent resident of the hospital. Now they could experiment on me some more. This was my home now, even against my will. The heart rate monitor laid beside me, making me think what they did when I was asleep. At first, I thought the cancer must have been too deep to cure, but now? Every time I twist or turn, bend or breathe, it feels like my body will just expire. I wonder if they’re even actual doctors, sending me though this pain seems unprofessional. I laid on a firm bed against the wall. Thin curtains hung, protecting from brightness. A nurse walked in, pulling them to the side, letting sun light splash the room. I could see the window, it was raining outside. The last scent of a storm blew in from the window as the nurse closed it.
“I like the window open, though.” I whispered. She spun around and snapped back.
“The window has to be closed otherwise it’s unhygienic!” she stormed off, leaving me feel small and unneeded. I slowly, painfully pulled myself up, determined to open the window for the smell of fresh air, dragging the wheeled life support machine with me. I shuffled towards the window, nearly in tears from the pain my bones were causing me. I could hear my bones crack and break every time I moved. My lungs felt like they were failing. I thought it was in my imagination, until my heart rate got slower. My legs were failing. I fell to the grounded and felt my right leg snap into two. It all felt like slow motion. Was this the end? Would the shooting pain kill me? Put me out of my misery, please.
The nurses ran in. I knew I was going to be wheeled straight to the surgery room to be cut open this time. I could feel them lift me up onto a bed with wheels. As they did I felt my left arm crack and half my bone splintered though my flesh. I was losing blood quicker than the nurses could run. The life support was in arms reach. I leaned over, feeling my ribs break off. I wrapped my cut, broken, raggedy hand around the main cord. I was too weak to pull it out. My mum was running beside me, she was the only one who knew what I was trying to do. I thought she wold try and stop me, but I knew that she cared about me more than that. She bound her hand around mine and pulled out the plug. I could see her tears as I perished .My vision faded, I was unable to see. My lungs closed up, I was unable to breathe. My body went numb, I was unable to move. I couldn’t feel any pain. My mother didn’t let me die, she ended my misery, pain and suffering. She was the only one who loved me enough to let me go.