Anneke.Net > A Bit About Me > Prose from Days Past

She used to believe her mom could fix anything. She would run up, saying "Mommy, I hurt," and her mother would make everything better. Now she's a teenager, and a doctor is telling her she has acute leukemia. Ironic, isn't it? She had just finished a report on leukemia. All the information put together meant she would die. In a few months.

Everything seems pointless. Teen priorities fly out the window.
What is so important about boys and clothes and make-up
when you have leukemia?
Who cares?
Why me?
Then treatment started.
And things changed.
She underwent chemotheraphy.
Her friends underwent a lack of understanding.
She's more mature.
They're not.
Have you ever felt like laughing and crying at the same time?
Her mom can't help her. No one can.
Have you ever head the lonely words,
"I don't want to die"?
She lost her friends.
She lost her hair.
Disease takes away a lot.
Her old friends say, "How's my hair look?"
She says, "I don't have any."
They say, "I have a date."
She says, "I have chemotherapy."
She has a right to be bitter.
Mommy, I hurt.