Every day had the same routine. I’d wake up, open my computer, do some of my school work, sit in the bathroom and cry because I had nothing left in me to throw up, try to take a shower, eat a few spoonfuls of yogurt and drink a glass of milk, go back to my bed for a nap, drink as much water as i possibly could, cry some more cuz my head hurt so bad, drink some more water, and wait for all of the visitors to come back again. Every day. That was what my life consisted of, for 2 whole weeks. It was hell. Don’t get me wrong, I love my friends and family and I’m so happy they all care so much about me, but all I wanted was to be alone.

The second week came around and I got used to the constant nauseous feeling. The headaches all day every day became background pain. I was drinking more water at the time than at any other point in my life. I could sustain a bowl of yogurt with granola in the morning, and if I was lucky enough I could eat some plain chicken and white rice somewhere throughout the day. It wasn’t by any means an ideal lifestyle, but it’s what I could get to work. I went from being a 63 pound “tough girl” who was “one of the boys” to weighing in at about 51 pounds within just under 2 weeks.

That wednesday was my first MRI. In order to find out I had a brain tumor I had a Cat Scan and ran some blood tests, but an MRI was something completely different. It felt like a movie scene where someone was entering a space ship, it was unreal. The first time I was a little freaked out so they took me out for a minute to let me breathe. The nurse put me back into the machine and I was fine. She let me pick what music I wanted to listen to, and even though I could barely hear it over all of the other noises, it definitely soothed my anxiety a little bit.

The following Monday dad woke me up at 9 and helped me get ready for the “big day” as Dr. Robinson called it. I put on a pair of sweatpants and dad let me wear his sweatshirt for comfort. I was so nervous. Dad and I got in the truck around 9:30 and got to BCH around 11:30, just in time for my 12:00 appointment. The amount of paperwork dad had to fill out was crazy. I’m pretty sure one was a life insurance form, but I was freaking out so bad I don’t even remember. I walked into my appointment room and dad held my hand the whole time. The doctors and nurses asked him to leave the room because I was now at risk for infection, but he didn’t even consider leaving. He would never leave me there by myself, I would never let him.

There were a lot of big loud machines around me, I could barely hear what anyone was saying, but it gave me time to think and relax before they told me something I didn’t wanna hear. There were 2 IV’s in me, one in my arm and one in my hand. The one in my arm wasn’t terrible but the one in my hand hurt. I finished my first round of chemo, dad said I took it all like a champ. They removed the IV’s from me, took all of the EKG stickers off my chest, let me shower, and then I got dressed. When I walked back into the room dad had tears in his eyes once again. He said, “if I could take away all of this pain and put it on myself, I would, I’m so sorry you have to be going through this baby girl”. But it was okay, really, I was fine. Everything happens for a reason and my doctor assured me every time he saw me that I was going to be fine.

We had to stay in Boston for 2 weeks. I had chemo treatment the first week and the second week, both on Tuesday’s. On Friday of the second week I had a check-up to see if I was all set to go home. They let me come home for the week, grab some more clothes and things, get my school supplies, say goodbye to friends, and hang out with my family for a little while. While I was home doing all these things, I started to put together how bad this really was. Everyone I talked to was crying. But I was still fine guys, nothing to worry about, I’m always fine.

Dad and I went back down to the hospital the next week, and since he blatantly refused to leave my hospital room, they brought him an extra cot to sleep on. Once they realized I was going to be down there for a while, dad brought all of his work stuff down and he worked 100% off his computer and phone. We had so much fun together, my dad really is my best friend. We watched every movie you could think of, ate so many snacks, talked to his customers all day, became close with my nurses, and facetimed back home every day. Given the circumstances, we made the best of it.

It’s been years and if anything, I’ve gotten worse. Dad couldn’t work online forever, he stayed with me for 6 months. We really did have the best time. Once a week dad comes down and stays the night with me still, and every other week the whole family comes down, they bring lunch from a different restaurant every time and cannolis from Mike’s of course. They’ve been good to me, I can’t complain about them, I can’t imagine what this is like for them. I’m missing everything and there is absolutely nothing I can do. Now as I sit here on my hospital bed, at 16 years old, writing this story down in my journal, I realize how lucky I really am. Life really sucks sometimes but I live everyday like it’s my last, because I really just never know.