Deadline

Flora Anne R. Palabrica, III - Magnesium

Everything seems like a dream. Its as if I can close my eyes and by the time I
open them; our car has driven right past the hospital. My dad would have leaned
back and said, Oops, my mistake. You dont have an appointment scheduled today.
Or for any day, for that matter. Youre as healthy as a horse. My mom would smile at
me through the mirror and tell me were going out to lunch since were already
dressed up and what do I feel like having? Wed drive out to a restaurant and wed
eat. And wed laugh. And then wed all go home. Thats the way it should have
been. Thats what should have happened.
But instead Im in a doctors chair, the chill of the metal back seeping right
through my blouse. And my hands are in my lap, slipping and sliding against each
other, trying to find something to hold onto as my whole world turns upside down.
My vision blurs and I can barely see the doctor, much less the papers hes holding
out. His mouth is moving but I cant make sense of what hes saying. I dont want to
make sense of what hes saying. Second stage Cancer. Leukaemia Bone
marrow. Im so sorry What is he apologizing for? Does someone we know have
leukaemia? These I ask myself, over and over again. Trying to force my brain into
forgetting what its already recorded. I dont even realize that Ive started shivering.
My mother reaches out to hold me, her arms like constricting bands across my chest
and I can hardly breathe. I can feel the splash of her warm tears against my neck
but I cant bring myself to cry. Why should I? It isnt true. They made a mistake.
Someone else has leukaemia. Not me.
Im 15 years old. How could I have cancer? It must be a mistake.

refusal to believe
in the truth my eyes can see;
for the heart is blind.

Why? Why did it have to be me? Out of all the people in the world that just
had to have cancer, why did it have to be me? It disgusts me. All the prayers Ive
ever offered, all the rules Ive obeyed. Ive toed the line my entire life and where
has that gotten me? Ive been nothing but an obedient daughter, nothing but a
hardworking student, and still, look where I am now. I dont deserve this! Why
couldnt someone else have gotten sick? Someone old, with only few more years left
to live. Or a criminal, someone who deserves to spend his remaining years alive
slowly watching himself die. I deserve to live. I deserve to graduate and make
something of my life. Im fifteen! I havent even begun to live. To love. I havent

even gone to prom or chosen my college course. Ive yet to fall in love. And now
when will someone ever call me beautiful? Will it be when my hairs falling out from
the chemo or when bruises pop up all over my skin? Will he say he loves me while
Im throwing up in the toilet? No. Ill never hear those words.
So thank You! Thank You so much! Do You realize how many times Ive prayed
to You? Asked You for help? Asked You for forgiveness? Where are You now, when I
need You? Are You just going to sit back and watch me die? Youve deserted me.
This isnt fair! Ive done nothing wrong. I dont deserve this. I want to live. I want to
wake up every day and not have to worry about whether or not Ill last til the next
morning. I want to be able to dance and run and play without worrying about
whether the bruises on my arms will ever fade or how long the scratch on my legs
going to keep on bleeding. I want to sing in the rain and not worry about the
infection my body may no longer be able to fight off. Ill never be able to do all
those again, will I? It isnt fair.

the injustice of
it all makes me want to scream:
why must it be me?

Id give everything. All I own. All Ive ever been proud of. Id give it all without
hesitation, without a second thought. Id give you my awards, my home, the clothes
off my back. Id give you everything I have. Just please, all Im asking for is more
time. They say the chemotherapys not working and that Im only getting worse. I
caught a fever last week and I still havent recovered. Nothing I choke down stays
down so now Im hooked up on feeding tubes to keep my body going. They dont
know why its not working but it just isnt. They tell me that right now, all I can do is
fight. Fight for my life. Fight against the cancer cells taking over my body. And I am
fighting; Im fighting with everything I have. But Im so scared because what if it still
isnt enough? What if I still fail? But no, I wont consider that. I cant consider that.
All Im asking for is more time. My cancers approaching Stage 4 and they say
that if I dont get any better, I only have a couple of years left to live. Its not that I
dont believe Ill get better. I will. Its just that if I dont, please give me more than a
couple of years. Just until my sister graduates from college, or my brother lands his
first big account, or my parents celebrate their silver anniversary. Just please, give
me more time to spend with them.

take all I have just

chance, another day

Its not working. Its still not working. What else do they want from me? Im
being poked and prodded with needles practically every hour. All my hairs fallen off
and my skin feels paper-thin. I cant stand to look at myself in the mirror. Why
should I? I just end up hating the person I see looking back. That isnt me. That
scrawny, bald, ugly person isnt me. And no matter how many tears I cry, I cant
wash off the sickness from my body. No matter how many pillows I stain with tears, I
cant forget that Im fighting a losing battle and that all my defences are starting to
crumble. I dont feel like Im myself anymore. Its like theres a stranger living inside
my body whos slowly trying to push me out. And maybe, maybe theres no longer
any use in resisting.
Whats the point? Why am I still fighting? Even if I get cured, what then? Ill
always be scared, perpetually looking over my shoulder, dreading every visit to the
hospital, every test theyll put me through. Ill never be the same person I was
before. Ill never be able to laugh and smile the way I used to. Because Ill know that
when I wake up the next morning, the cancer may be back. And that the next time,
my chances of surviving wont be as good. Is that a life worth living? Is that the kind
of life worth fighting for?

the futility
of it all, just chokes my throat
with these unshed tears.

They say the cancers at its fourth stage. And now theres nothing that can be
done. Im being taken home tomorrow, with only 6 months left to live. Half a year.
What seemed so long before now seems so bitterly short. Just take her home and
keep her happy. Thats really all we can do for her now. Thats what the doctor said.
Dad was trying so hard not to cry. Im his baby girl, and it must have killed him to
not be able to protect me. He had one arm wrapped around mom and his other
hand held mine. There was such strength in his grip. I knew how much it cost him,
having to stay strong when he should have been allowed to be weak. Mom wasnt
crying either. But she was pale, so pale, as if shed shatter if you touched her. Its a
good thing Dad was holding her tight. And I didnt expect to cry. I really didnt. Ive
come to terms with my death long before my parents did. But the tears flowing
down my cheeks took me by surprise. I guess just because youve accepted
something, doesnt mean it doesnt hurt.
I have 6 months left to live. 6 months to spend with my family. And I dont
intend to waste any of it wallowing in self-pity. This is the hand Ive been dealt and

Ive played my turn. So what if my deadline came earlier than most? Ill reach it with
no regrets. Thats all thats left for me to do.

life is fleeting in
its beauty, ethereal
in its transience.