Diary entry number one thousand nine hundred and one day

Diary entry number one thousand nine hundred and one day
I popped my number one thousand, nine hundred and one pill into my mouth that is searing in pain. I had to take that pill twice a day in order to reduce my feeling of nausea. Feeling weak in the morning due to several vomiting within two hours , I hate it more than any words can express. Yet I know the worse still have not come crushing into my life yet.

“Hey, good morning. How are you feeling today?” Miss See, the friendliest nurse in the hospital asked with concern. She was pretty in her white nurse uniform, smiling and revealing her straight white teeth.

“I’m okays,” I smiled and said weakly. I did not want people that was concern about me to worry. It came again but fortunately I rushed into the toilet just in time with help from Miss See. Then she helped me back to my bed and poured a glass of plain water for me. The sunlight shot past the crystal clear of water. I wished I was clean and clear without any sickness just like the water. Holding the glass of water with my right hand, I gulped down the water quickly to reduce the disgusting smell in my mouth. I saw my right hand , nasty rashes almost filled themselves on my pale skin. Miss See saw the sadness welled up in my eyes, and stroked my hair gently.

“Don’t worry, they will fade soon enough.” Miss See murmured.

“Will they?” I laughed, really happy that they will with confirmation from Miss See.

“Of course they will. I have to leave you alone for a while.” She said showing her best smile on earth. I nodded a little and saw her back view getting further. I was alone again. You might ask where are my family? Why aren’t they here? This is not a drama serial where the patients always got visits from their family and where everything have a happy ending.

My mother and father have to work day and night to get money for my long term stay in the hospital. It lasted about 5 years already, I am still lying in this bed and my poor parents still slogging their guts out to support my useless life. I tried to be strong, I always put on a false front in front of all. I felt like a puppet and the controller, my sickness, the leukemia(ALL). When can I snap off the strings that controls? I really do not know, but I know I got to be strong, as strong as the typhoon. My will was important, my life was linked to my parents’. They suffered because of me and thus I lived for them. I wanted to get well and live like normal people ,last but not least support my parents. Repaying them back like other children, I did not give them the happiness that all children can give their parents already so I hoped that I can repay them for their care and concern all over this ill-fated years.

Suddenly, the door creaked opened and Miss See popped in. I dropped my pencil on the bed in shocked and hid my diary under the blanket.

“Its time for your chemotherapy.” She said and helped me up. I went with her reluctantly…