The Day I Died

No one tells you how painful it is to lose something you never thought you could. No one ever told me you can grieve yourself. It started small. Barely noticeable, but it was there if you knew where to look.

It started sophomore year with a depletion of my energy. I chalked it up to juggling a million clubs and classes. I was in the choir, the school singing group (the Freshtones), theater, tennis, and all honors classes. It was a lot to juggle, but I’d done that sort of juggling my whole life. So like the genius that I am, I ignored it; and it worked (or so I thought). 

It was during tech week for Midsummer Nights Dream that I noticed my energy disappearing. Fatigue brought gifts of procrastination and lackluster sleep. Fatigue also kindly gifted me with excess stress to the painful point of tears.The more the semester progressed, the more I lost me. It came to a head during tech week when I was on stage standing beneath the hot lights of a stage come to life; We were running through act I scene II. I stood caked in makeup, sweating through everything, running my lines as Lysander; “Fair love, you faint with wandering in the wood; And to speak true, I have forgot our way: We’ll rest us, Hermia, if you think it good, And wait for the comfort of the day.” With each line, the exhaustion came over me like waves on a high wind day. But I continued with my lines, pushing through; “One turf shall serve as a pillow for us both; one heart, one—, wait, what was my line again?” I had forgotten my lines! I’ve never been unprepared for tech week, but here I was stumbling, sweaty, and forgetful! It wasn’t me. 

That weekend I drilled my lines into my head before the curtains rose to give way to my shining moment onstage, and shining it was. I felt normal again, back to who I was. But like most stars in the sky, that shining moment was just the start of an explosion. 

I didn’t feel it yet, but it was there. It even brought with it the joyous gift of head-pounding migraines. They made themselves extremely loud and show-stoppingly horrible. They would visit every other day like disgraced family members down on their luck. At one point, I thought they would move in and be a permanent installation, and for a while they did. They got so bad I was literally turning gray; my teachers even noticed, but I pushed through again and ignored them. 

I even auditioned for another show. We were doing the musical Anastasia; Anastasia was a dream musical for me! The best part is, I even got a lead after singing my heart out at the audition. I had my own song, I was in many scenes, and I felt overjoyed to just be in the show in general. I started practice, and it was going so well. In just a few weeks I was off book and already had my song memorized! I was so excited to bring this show to life, and to see it through, but I never would. 

It was the beginning of January when I started to get increasingly sick. To the point where I couldn’t even make it up the stairs without breathing heavily. We had no clue what was going on. We went to doctor after doctor. We searched for answer after answer. It was awful. I was still in school, but I had to get a 504 plan so I could make it to all of my appointments. Then it happened. The explosion finally hit. 

I had to leave my highschool. The appointments got to be too much, and I couldn't keep afloat. From there I became more and more ghost-like. I didn’t hear from any of my friends. No one noticed my absence, and it just got worse from there. 

After months of bad diagnoses and doctors telling me “It’s all in my head,” the hallowed voicemail came. It was a seemingly normal day, the best one in months. It was such a good day that I even felt like going for a drive. Driving became my favorite outing when I got really sick and didn’t wanna stay inside on the couch all day. We drove for a while letting the calming music of my favorite band Cannons wash over us. Then we got a voicemail, the voicemail. We hadn't gotten that far out of town so we pulled into a parking lot to listen. Still to this day I wouldn't be prepared to hear the words that followed. “Well, we found something in her thyroid ultrasound.”A stillness flooded the air with the next words that came: “It might be cancer.” 

 At that moment I officially died. Hot tears streamed down my cheeks. My heart stopped, and I was shocked beyond words. “A voicemail. We're learning I have cancer via voicemail. Really?!” I said shaking with a mix of anger, sadness, and desperation. 

   The next few months were exhausting. I still hadn't heard from anyone. I had been replaced in the show, like I never existed in the first place, and I had to get surgery. After a while I switched to online school. That way I could still graduate while recovering and healing. And just like that the days turned weeks and the weeks into months which turned into years. It was awful. 

After the fact, I still graduated; I even graduated early! I also learned the ever so valuable lesson that teenage girls suck. Because my best friend spread the rumor that I was pregnant when I really had cancer, which is part of the reason I never heard from my friends. But somehow even when life kicked me down, I was grateful it did. I learned to be resilient, strong, gritty, and how to make new friends.