Until You

Part One

One thing that is important to remember about dying is that it is in no way unique.  Every being on this Earth is in the same position when it comes to the value and fragility of life. The only difference between me and the people around me is that I have a more exact date of expiry. I’m sure there have been hundreds of thousands of people who have died suddenly and tragically since I received my bleak diagnosis, so at least I can take a small comfort in knowing what is in store for me. I may have been forewarned but don’t misunderstand me, waiting for death is more exhausting and painful that is sounds. Knowing your fate is definitely a blessing and a curse in equal measure.

All the cancer themed books and the cancer themed films tell you to do all of the things you want to do before the inevitable happens. A fast-track bucket list if you will. They preach at you to live your best life before the tragic end. Travel abroad, meet new people, have sex, be fearless, break the law, fall in love and the ridiculous list goes on. In my case this is simply not possible. I am too sick to walk further than the end of my street. So, for me, no new adventures await and as for a bucket list, I just don’t see the point? All it would be is a momentary distraction from the unavoidable end result. I wish it would come sooner. I’m ready now. My parents say that they will obviously never be ready for the end, but they don’t want that to stop me from ‘letting go’ if I need to. They don’t have any other children to fuss over so I don’t know what they do with themselves. How will they fill their day when they no longer have to check I haven’t died of boredom from watching the same episode Keeping up the Kardashians that is repeated over and over again? Maybe a cruise?

So, until the day the reaper comes knocking, I break up time spent waiting for him with numerous bus rides through the village. It takes the hefty sum of thirteen minutes to get from my bus stop to the station. I try to gain a different perspective on each journey back and forth so that I can spend these precious minutes truly appreciating everything about my birthplace turned soon-to-be site of my death. The small village culture, the 16th Century buildings and the abundance of nature thrill me every time. Whether it’s a new ornament in a living room window or a shiny new car parked on a drive, I try to pick out new things that I have never noticed or focused on before. I also keep everything archived in a notebook for absolutely no reason at all. I mean, it’s not as though when I die someone will want to read about how much of a loser I was when I was alive.

I step on to the bus and smile to today’s driver before choosing my vantage point for the ride. My stop is the first on the route, so I am always the first person on and the last person off. It’s 3:30PM now so the school and college stops will soon spill a wave of teenage anxiety on to the bus. I’m not complaining, I like their noise and raucousness. It’s nice to watch people living normal lives. In an alternative world this would have been my life. A giant student mess of exam pressure, peer pressure, hormones and acne. Everything that most teenagers hate about being young are all the things I used to crave most in the world. Instead I was blessed with home schooling, hospital appointments, rapid weight loss and chronic isolation from anyone my own age.

I sit quietly in my chosen spot near the back of the bus and watch as the kids pile on. The first-year students climb on to the bus first, hauling with them their backpacks which are easily heavier than they are. This is a stark contrast to the middle year students who always seem the most relaxed. They aren’t the new kids anymore, but they still have a while before they need to make any important decisions about their future. All that matters to them is fitting in with their friends and finding the perfect boy to date. Whereas the final year students are quite the mixture. Most are over anxious beings who’ve had one too many energy drinks and not enough sleep while the rest have slept soundly having accepted that straight A’s are out of their grasp. I often think about which type of student I would have been. I hope I would have been an over-achiever, the cleverest kid in the classroom and involved in all the extra-curricular activities. My parents considered sending me to high school, but they quickly changed their minds. They thought I would miss to many lessons to be able to keep on track, they were right of course and throughout those years I was subject to at least two hospital appointments a month all of which left me too weak to do pretty much anything. At least my space will have gone to someone who could enjoy the full high school experience.