UP...

'See, they didn't care that you left.', said Laura, my favorite girl from my favorite tv-show 'Good times, Bad times'. Sam had once again walked out of a conversation with her parents, and the concequences were dramatic. I'm lying on my bed, for three or four hours now. The only thing i'm doing is watching Netflix, and when I will finish all the series I'm probably going to try Popcorn Time. I have to tell you, that won't take long any more.

Okay, I lied when I said I was only watching series for four hours on my bed now. I'm laying here for at least a month and a half. And it's not my own bed, but a hospital bed. And I don't like GTBT at all. But I've seen all other series already. I'm lying in the hospital, because I have cancer. Cancer in my bones. Two months ago I went to the hospital because I had pain in my leg, and they sent me to the hospital right away. They could control it with medicins for two weeks, but when they were over I needed to go to the hospital, and I wasn't allowed to go back home. Mom is constantly with me, but daddy has to work. He is here every evening. My parents have hired a small appartment close to the hospital, so they can be with me early in the morning.

It is now 2PM. Mom is getting coffee. For herself, of course. I may not have any coffee. I put my laptop away and look in front of me. There is a window, and I look at myself. I have no hair any more. I do still have the big blue eyes I always had. I'm trying to sit up, but I cannot do anythin because of the pain in my back. My back has always been week, but now my spinal cord was touched by the cancer and BOOM. I can't do anything anymore.

Just when I decide to go to sleep the door of my cel opens. A man with an immensely big moustache enters. That is doctor Van Houten, but I may call him doctor Moustache. Doctor Moustache is always very kind. But this time, it's not only doctor moustache. There is a whole team of doctors walking behind him, and the last one in the row is my mother, who is trying to prevent me from seeing her crying. 'Mom?' I ask. But she says nothing. The only sounds she makes are the 'hee-eeehh' because of the crying.

Doctor moustache turns me around, so I am lying on my belly. Another doctor walks towards me and holds my legs. The same things happens with my arms. I cannot move at all. I know what is going to happen and I am already preparing myself. Doctor moustache gets a huge injector. 'This is going to hurt for a bit, lovely.' he says. 'I know', I whisper. Then, it feels like there is a knife stuck in my back and I push my lips on each other. I have felt this pain once before, that was my first day in the hospital. They had to test my bone marrow and this is the way to take it from my body. That was the day I discovered I have cancer. Something really bad must have happened, otherwise this wouldn't be necessary. And my mother hasn't cried for ages.

The knife leaves my back and I try to relax. Doctor moustache turns me around again. My mother takes my hand and rubs it gently with her thumb. I look in her eyes, there is nothing happy in her eyes. She has changed terribly since I lay here. 'Mom?' I ask again. 'What is wrong?' I already know what is wrong, but I have to know the details. 'Something is wrong with your blood. The bloodtest you did yesterday was negative. That's all I know dear.' She lets go of my hand and stares at the oxygen tank standing next to my bed. I know I won't live long any more. And while I am thinking about death I shut my eyes and fall asleep.

I open my eyes but I cannot see anything. For a moment I think I went blind, but then I realise it is in the middle of the night. I look around me. Then I suddenly remember something, and even though I try to push it back it starts playing in my head.

It feels like I am laying on a table. I'm riding somewhere. I'm in a lot of pain. My leg burns, and I try to scream but I can't. I open my eyes but I can't see well. I can see vague figures around me, and I hear vague voices that scream to people to step aside. And I hear mom cry, mommy... I look up and try to cry but I can't.

This memory follows me since it happened. Every time I am alone and I'm trying to think, it comes up again and I see everything, all the details, in my head. I feel there is a tear gliding down my cheek. Just before I go sleep I see the door of my cel opening, doctor moustache running towards me, but I can't keep myself awake.

A few days later there are a lot of machines in my room to let my heart beat, there are more tubes in my nose and there are lines going from tanks into my arms. The cancer has now settled in my blood. So I have cancer in my bones and in my blood. I am currently existing out of cancer. They have told me it is hopeless. I have two days left, maximally. Two days in a bed, next to my crying parents, next to machines that do things for me that I don't get.

Then I slip away.

And I feel I'm not coming back.

I float upwards, in a tunnel. I float upwards, to the most beautiful light I have ever seen.

Up.

Oh, my name is Romy.

But that doesn't matter anymore.