Face Down ✓ | Patrick Stump

Prologue Part One

May 27, 2012

The day after my 17th birthday.

The day before my mother started her addiction with alcohol.

The day my father was diagnosed with cancer.

They say that life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass; it's about learning to dance in the rain. Well, it's hard to dance when you're dancing alone.

My father was not only my dad, but my best and only friend, and my second half. I knew him better than I knew myself, to be honest. So when I was sitting in pre-calc and was called to the office to receive the news from my sobbing mother, I was devastated. My whole world came crashing down.

My siblings were utterly confused. They were so young, too young. They turned one not even a month ago. How were we going to tell them that their father was dying as we speak? No one should have to go through battling cancer. No one should have to deal with the pain of seeing a loved one fight this battle. At the age of one, the most loss they should have to deal with is saying goodbye to a beloved blanket or toy.

But my father was that blanket. When we visited him in the hospital, lying in the hospital bed, he appeared to be fine, just a little tired. Like a blanket that was still soft and comfy, just a little worn out.

But the blanket started to fray at the ends. As the months went by, he grew weaker and weaker. By Thanksgiving, the blanket had ripped.

November 23, 2012

The day they found a tumor in my father's leg.

The doctors said it wasn't terminal. It was a small tumor at the bottom of his leg. Just a few sessions of chemo should get rid of the tumor. The worst thing that could happen is that they may have to amputate his leg if the tumor didn't go away in a few months.

Like stitching together a blanket. Like cutting off the corner with a hole that grew bigger each time it seemed to be fixed.

December 14, 2012

But the doctors didn't have to go there. By Christmas, my father was healthy and well. He showed no signs of cancer and didn't have tumors of any kind. He was no longer bedridden and joined the family on Christmas Eve.

My mother had given up her addiction with alcohol. I had stopped sulking over the thought of him being gone, my grades went back up. My siblings were still confused, but they were just happy that their blanket was as good as new.

 May 27, 2013

The day after my 18th birthday.

One year after my father's diagnosis with cancer.

The day the blanket became torn.

The tumor came back.

Only this time, it was stronger than before, and it wasn't alone. It had metastasized and spread as tumors were beginning to pop up throughout his body, getting dangerously close to his vital organs.

When we thought the storm had passed, when we thought we would dance again, it was just the eye of the hurricane. We were only halfway through. It was back, and it was stronger than before.

My mother began drinking not even a day later. I came home from school the next day to find her passed out drunk in a puddle of scotch and her own vomit. I was the one who had to clean her up and put her to bed.

My siblings were confused as to why their mother was passed out. Mommy was just really tired from work and took a little nap. I had explained to them.

"Is that what Daddy has been doing?" That question hit me hard. I replied with a simple nod, holding back tears. I put them down for their nap and ran off to my room, where I began sobbing hysterically.

Yet again, the doctors said the tumors weren't terminal. They were getting dangerously close to being so, yet it was still manageable and treatable. They gave us the same speech as they did last time. A few sessions of chemo should get rid of it. The worst they had to do was amputate his limbs.

Like a blanket being stitched together. Like a blanket having the frayed ends being cut off.

July 14, 2013

The holes in the blanket stretch by the day.

The chemo had worked on my father at first, heck, the tumor in his upper thigh was already gone. However, the ones lower in his leg showed no signs of disappearing. It had only been a month. However, the tumors were beginning to spread and threatened to become terminal.

Where was my mother during all of this? Normally, she would either be at the bar, drinking away her problems that belonged to someone else, or doing the same at home. I wound up taking care of my father and my siblings. I had become their second mother.

Due to this, I ended up not even applying to colleges. If I left, there would be no one to take care of my father, no one to look after my siblings, no one to stop my mother from drinking. Yes, on occasion, I was able to stop her. But I could never end her alcoholism, for she was the broken toy of a child, one that wouldn't turn off. You could only sit there and listen to the incessant beeping that only stopped when it completely tired itself out.

So we were losing both our blanket and our toy. What a catch.

My mother had also lost her job. After flushing all of her money on liquor and medical bills, we had hardly any left. Hardly any money was left for medical bills or food or electricity and water bills, forget about college. We were sinking deeper and deeper in debt.

I worked three jobs, sometimes all three in one day, just to put food on the table. I was beginning to become my own blanket.

August 12, 2013

My father's 48th birthday.

The tumors were gone.

My dad was now cancer free. We celebrated the news with a barbecue in our backyard. My mom even sobered up for a day. She got drunk from time to time afterward, but it was never as bad as it used to. On multiple occasions, she would turn violent, and I would hide my siblings in their room while she drank until she passed out. But after my father had been cancer free for a month, she had stopped binge drinking.

It was probably the best birthday my father ever had.

Little did we know that it would be his last.