Not Being Labeled

Chapter one: 6-12 months

It's that month.
This day every 3 months is the same.
The check ups.
When I was 14 I was diagnosed with Leukemia cancer which is normally starts in the early blood-forming forming cells which can be found in the softer inner part of certain bones, which can spill into the bloodstream very quickly and can move to different places.  At the aged 14 I was terrified, this wasn't meant to happen to me. I was meant to be running around, hanging out with friends, being rebellious, having a boyfriend, focusing on school but instead I was either in hospital, a wheelchair, in my room or at council meetings my mum would set up for me so I wouldn't become depressed but as each day went by I realised, this could kill me and the worst part was, I wasn't afraid...because it came back again at 15, 2 whole years battling cancer.

I'm now 17 years of age and so far I'm as good as new, I recovered after a few tough months thanks to my amazing parents especially my mum who gave up her job just to look after me. Going to school at the time was the toughest everyone looked at me weird when I couldn't do sport, dance & would groan in pain and be extremely skinny all thanks to Leukemia.

My mum and I were sitting down in the pale dull waiting room. They never spice it up, like live a little people seriously. My mum was reading a vogue magazine like she always does when we're here while I colour in, don't judge me in my coping mechanism. We probably sat there for a good 30 minutes before my doctor called me in, like normal we did the scans and then asked some questions
"Are you experiencing any pain?"
"Yes, but I'm pretty sure it's from sport"
"Loosing weight?"
"Yes I've been on a diet"
And many more annoying questions I have to answer every 3 months.
We went and sat back in the waiting room, this was the worst part, the Unknown, not knowing if it's positive or negative. Mum continues reading the magazine while Tapping her foot while
I sat in my chair while hugging my knees up to my chest and biting on the skin around my finger nails, don't ask why i do it, it calms me down. 30 minutes past and it still wasn't over yet the butterflies in my stomach didn't help, my mum squeezed my hand tight reassuring me that know matter what the results are we will get through this like last time, it normal does take an hour until they get the results but by the time it's 30 minutes mum and I are hanging off our seats waiting to see the results. Finally an hour is up and the doctor calls my name and we go and sit in another dull white room, like seriously what is with these boring ass rooms. "Please take a seat Claire and Miss Florence"
We do as he asks and we take a seat, "as you know you had leukemia but we sucked out the bone marrow and put enzimes in the regrow to stop it from coming back"
We both nodded, he grabs the envelop that held my results.
"It's come back and this time it's too late, it's spread quicker than before there is nothing we can do, we can try and do chemotherapy but other than that, I'm sorry Claire but you have 6-12 months to left"
"Thank you" I whispered so quietly almost I didn't hear it, I felt sick, I should of known, I just thought my weight was from working out and doing all those laps, turns out not, turns out leukaemia is back and it has no plans on leaving my body until I'm dead.

We got out of the car and I walked straight to my room, I had no intentions on talking to anyone, my body was shutting down, I was going to die at the age of 18, or even 17 if I can't last 6 months, one whole year left, I needed to decide whether I wanted to give chemotherapy a go again or just live out my 6-12 months but right now I didn't want to talk about that for now, but my mum had other ideas "Claire can I come in?" "Sure mum", my mum walks in and sits on my bed "sweetie I know it's hard but you need to tell me what your doing, are you going to go for chemotherapy?" Do I want chemotherapy? Do I really want to waste my 6-12 months, it's not guaranteed to help me, do I really want to go through all that pain again and lose my hair or instead do I just want to do a bucket list? Life the most of my life while I can? My head was spinning from thinking of it all, I lied down, I shook my head with tears filling up in my eyes "no" "sweetie what do you mean no?" She gave me a concerned frown "I don't want to go through chemotherapy again" my mums eyes began to water "what are you saying?" "I'm going to make the most of the time I have left, I'm going to make a bucket list of all the stuff I want to do before I die..."

At that moment I felt completely selfish, I was basically leaving my mum and dad after everything but chemotherapy wouldn't be a definite, but I couldn't help but feel guilty, I was young and my parents were going to lose their  only child, I'm never going to have kids, never having a family of my own, never know the feeling of love, never understand what it's really like to be happy, what the true meaning to happiness is and that was my goal for the next 6 to 12 months was to find accomplish all my goals and be truly happy and not feel so guilty when I look into my parents eyes and not look like a failure, I will be limited yes because I will be dying but I'll be dying with a meaning and a passion and not some boring life doing chemotherapy and it not working. When I was 14 I was leukaemia girl and that's not how I wanted to be labeled I want to be labeled "Claire Florence the girl who defeated leukaemia" or "Claire Florence who had leukaemia" because no one deserves to be labeled, whether their sick, their skin colour is different , personality, stereotype,
Disability, people shouldn't be labeled by that.

I want to die with a meaning and a secret... With that secret being that I have leukaemia.