EDIT!!
BEFORE you read, this story is at a stand still. I did update last week or so, but I'm going to try and focus on my other story, "Living With the Crazy, the Wierd, and the Love". I'm really sorry! Send me a message if you want me to keep writing. To everyone that loves to read, thank you for even taking the time to read this. <3 Love you all.
- Lyss ^^
1. The Encounter
I used to think the gentle whirring of the air conditioner was relaxing, peaceful in a way. That the people here wanted to help me the best they could. That the hot food given to you on a platter everyday was amazing, and made me feel like royalty. That finally I got away from the pressure of school, sports, and could watch t.v and relax all day. Sleep whenever I wanted to, and have people worry about me; care for me.
Now the whir of the air conditioner is all that fills the air. The beeping on the machines never-ending. I soon realized that the people here couldn’t wait until they got home. “Two more hours!”, they would say to each other excitedly. Like they didn’t care that I wanted to get out of here too. After a while the food all tastes the same; bland. I started realizing that the beds lost their comfort after being trapped in their thin, itchy blankets. I stopped watching t.v after a while when the re-runs became unbearable, and now I can quote each show off by heart.
But I guess I’m getting ahead of myself, aren’t I? I should probably tell you how this mess all started. So I’ll go back six months, in the middle of eleventh grade.
~
I was diagnosed with Leukemia on October 19th, 2010. I had absolutely no idea that it could happen to me. Well, it could happen to anyone, but me? Let’s just say I didn’t expect it.
I guess I should tell you a little about myself, if you’re reading this and don’t know who I am. I’m writing this in my diary, in the hospital, while I’m still here. I want people to know what millions of people go through, first hand. When I survive this, I’m going to do what I can to find somewhat of a cure.
My name is Wren Elizabeth Misteral. I learned that life is precious. I lived. I fell in love. Here’s my story:
September 3rd, 2010
I’m starting to feel pain in my knees, but I think it’s just from training. I’ve been training for volleyball season all summer, but I think it’s just strain. Right now my mom and I are on our way back from training. Coach Doug says that if I want to get a scholarship I’ll have to eat better, and keep exercising. I know that I should, but I miss being a kid. I feel like I’m growing up too fast.
My mom speeds up in her Caravan, as we race home for dinner. I love my mom, though I look nothing like her. She has soft blond hair, with bright blue eyes, a small frame with a height of 5’8. She’s singing some 80’s song that I don’t know. She has such a beautiful voice.
I’m nothing like my mom though. I have my dad’s black hair, and thin figure, but my green eyes are a mystery; my parents both had blue eyes. I can’t sing, or clean or cook, but I’m an athlete at 6’1, like my dad.
My mom and I are on our own in our little house. My dad had died when I was twelve, in a car accident. Every time I think of him my throat swells up and I can’t speak. I’ve pushed him out of my mind. Even thinking about him now makes tears fall down my face.
