A Battle Worth Fighting
Alanah Quarta, Grade 6
My entire life I battled through hardship, was it worth it?
It all started when I was born, my liver and kidneys were failing. As soon as I was born, I was taken to intensive care. They said I wouldn’t make it through the night, but I did. Then when I was three, I had Leukemia, I had a lot of chemotherapy and no hair, by the time I was four it disappeared but I still had no hair. When I was five I started kindy and I was known as the bald girl. Every day I would come home and cry, say I’m ugly and say I hated life, but now I realise how precious life was.
The morning after my 13th birthday was a complete disaster. That morning as muffled sirens became a piercing noise, my nightmares became a reality. By the time the ambulance came I was unconscious. I woke up in a hospital room with a nurse beside me. A horrendous migraine had settled in my head and pain ached everywhere. Plugs were attached all over me and all of a sudden panic struck me. The nurse asked, “Are you alright sweetheart?” I nodded.
In came a doctor and my parents. In a very humane and sympathetic voice, he told me that the scans had come through, uncovering the cause of the terrible accident. It was cancer, terminal cancer. I looked down. I suddenly blurted, “What does terminal mean and can’t I get surgery to fix it?” The nurse beside me answered saying, “It means your cancer is incurable and is predicted to lead to death.” Recently I had been quite tired, I was coughing a lot and I was constipated. But I thought I was just sick, I guess not. “How long do I have?” I asked. The doctor spoke, “Two months at the most.” I looked up and started crying as my mother fell to the floor.
Two months of intense pain had passed, and the cancer growth slowed down. We had hope. During my third month the cancer was growing faster than ever, but I was lucky to be alive so I used every day as an opportunity to learn something new and try something new. My parents bought me a beautiful art set, so I slowly opened it and started going to work as my parents left for the cafe. But much worse pain had filled my body but I didn’t want my parents to worry. Slowly as I dipped the paintbrush into the yellow paint, my fingers trembled and the brush slipped out of my hands, I couldn’t breathe, nurses ran in as I was gasping for air, one of the nurses gave me CPR, and the other nurse shocked my chest with a defibrillator, but nothing worked.
Just some advice, live life to the fullest, forgive and forget because people like me don’t get that extra day. And by the way, my life was definitely worth the fight.