East Texas
3 years ago
I wasn't used to the hospital bed. In fact, the thought of it irritated me. Staying with my dad through his chemo sessions was enough to make the clash of antiseptic and drugs disgust me.
I woke up in the living room to find an IV pole next to me. Mom and Gianna weren't anywhere to be found as I looked around my empty house.
As I tried to sit up on the bed, my bones hurt so much I thought I could never dare to move again. Not with that amount of pain. But little did I know that it was only just the beginning.
Another day; another life.
I glanced at the family picture hung up on the wall. Even though it's been almost six months since my dad died, focusing on that picture instantly brought my memories back and I hated it. I knew I had good memories of my father but every time that I decided to think of them, the bad ones seemed to blur them out.
Memories of him in chemo, memories of trying to get him to the car in a wheelchair through an emergency, memories of watching him seize right in my face, memories of him literally crying but waving it off as an allergy dust.
You know what hurts more than watching someone that you love die? Knowing that they're going to die and only waiting for the day that your doom crashes with your reality. It is more saddening to know that no matter how hard that you try, they can't make it either ways.
Filled with such thoughts and the thoughts of my recently diagnosed condition, I headed to the cabinet ignoring the Out of bounds sign my mom had taped on her alcohol cabinet and grabbing out a bottle of champagne.
I wondered if Dad was filled with regret when he said we only had one chance at this life. If I only had one chance at this life, I didn't want to suffer like him. I didn't want to try only to end up dying. I'd rather not try anything at all and live my life while I still could.
I grabbed a cup and poured some alcohol into me hoping that in some way, it would take those negative thoughts out of my head. My throat burned at the sour taste but it didn't stop me from pouring myself another cup.
I sat in front of the tv, staring at the blank screen. But I couldn't keep my eyes open without thinking about my dad, he found a way to enter even into my drunken thoughts. So I called Tasha instead.
"You sure I could come in?" Tasha asked again as she held me up so I could be steadied. I nodded in approval, unsure of my surrounding. I just wanted to crawl in my bed and sleep. I had no thoughts in my head, no worries in the world, I could finally sleep like a baby.
As we walked into the house, I found mom sitting on the stool with her arms crossed as she stared right as us as if she had been waiting for us while Gianna was fast asleep on the couch.
"Where have you been?" She asked, calm.
Tasha set me down on the empty chair and held me from falling.
"To the bar, with Tasha." I slurred my words.
"So you've been out drinking again?" She asked for confirmation and I only nodded my head in response. My throat itched and burned from the amount of toxins that I took in so I rushed to the restroom to cough out the contents of my stomach.
I panicked when I started to cough out blood and yelled for my mom. After she was done with cleaning me up and stopping the blood, they put me back on the couch.
"You do realize she's going to die this way right?" My mom turned to Tasha.
"Mom, it's not her fault," I tried to speak but she wasn't listening to me.
"I'm sorry ma'am, I just- I didn't know Raine was sick." She answered, her voice quivering in anxiety. She shook her head and frowned as she turned to me.
"That screams just how good of a friend you are, don't it?" Mom yelled at her.
"Mom-," my voice didn't come out like I wanted it to. I was too weak.
"Please leave , Tasha." My mom asked of her as she clasped her hands together as it to beg her.
"It is not her fault!" I yelled again as I watched Tasha drop my car keys on the table and leave. "I asked her to take me, it is not her fault." The sound of the door creaking only meant that Tasha already left and so mom took that as my turn to be scolded.
"Are you aware of your condition?" She asked me and I only nodded in response.
"You just sent my only friend away!" I cried.
"Your only friend who's helping you kill yourself?" She asked me again.
"She didn't know I was sick, I didn't need to tell her. Can I not be a normal teenager?" I yelled at her as I stood up from the chair.
"A normal teenager?" She repeated. "A normal teenager doesn't have stage II multiple myeloma!"
"That's not my fault? Who gave it to me?" I yelled back at her.
"You know damn well who to ask, you know." She responded and the tears streamed down my face.
"I hate you." I shook my head in disbelief.
As soon as I got to the room, I picked up my phone and dialed Tasha's phone, it didn't go. I tried it again, it didn't go through.
As soon as I woke up the next morning, I tried calling to her again but it didn't go through.
And I blamed my mother for that.
Nov 18th