As soon as I stepped inside the mall, I felt it. I could sense it deep inside my bones. Something was wrong. I looked around only to find the usual mall visitors wandering around.
“Are you hungry?” asked Dad, while digging into his wallet. That was unusual. He has never done that before. He always carried sufficient cash or the required cards. I looked at him. He gave me a faint smile. That was unusual too. Dad hasn’t smiled like that since the last time I made him proud. A sudden wave of nervousness crept in.
“When I stand before God at the end of my life, I would hope that I would not have a single bit of talent left, and could say, ‘I used everything you gave me.” ― Erma Bombeck I’m still alive. I cannot feel anything, but I can certainly hear everything. I have cancer. Brain tumour, to its severe stages. The people already consider me dead. No they haven’t informed my family. I can hear them talk and they seem to plan on telling them this afternoon as soon as they confirm my death.
I cannot move any part of my body, not even my eyes. My heart skips almost every alternate beat and is slowing down every second. I can feel no pain. The doctors closed my eyes to prevent extra pressure on the optic centre of my brain, which was close to the sight of infection, earlier.
I know I am going to die, but I still am alive. I try lifting my hand, but I’m scared. I heard the doctors tell my family that even the slightest pressure in this stage can cause permanent damage, and I will eventually die. I do not believe them. I command my hand to lift itself, but it’s impossible. One part of my brain, the ventral tegmental area, dies with that very thought of action. Continue reading “I’m alive!”