Total pages in book: 215
Estimated words: 199344 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 997(@200wpm)___ 797(@250wpm)___ 664(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 199344 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 997(@200wpm)___ 797(@250wpm)___ 664(@300wpm)
She watches me as I shave my head, and I meet her gaze through the mirror. “You think I could pull off a mohawk?”
A smirk pulls at her lips, and she rolls her eyes. “Don’t even think about it,” she tells me, that smirk only widening, then watching as I go to every effort to shave my whole head except for the strip right down the center, she starts to laugh. “Noah! Stop making me laugh. I’m trying to be sad.”
“Don’t you think you’ve been sad enough?” I ask her. “You’ve cried more tears over the past few months than you have in your whole life, and each one of them has killed me. You’ve already been through so much, and I know the fear of the unknown is terrifying, but that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to be happy. So whether you like it or not, I’m not going to stop trying to make you laugh because when you do laugh and your eyes light up like Christmas morning, it makes me so fucking happy I could die.”
“That happy, huh?”
“Yep,” I say, nodding as our gazes collide through the mirror. “That fucking happy.”
Zoey just smiles, and I lift my chin just the slightest. “Come here,” I tell her, holding out the shaver. “Finish this for me so I don’t walk out of here looking like a troll.”
Zo laughs and scrambles around, handing me the kitten as she stands on the chair and takes the shaver. I brace my other hand against her hip, keeping her steady in case she falls, and with that, she turns the shaver back on and takes away any hopes I might have had of a killer mohawk.
49
Zoey
These have been the hardest five weeks of my life. Every day has been a challenge, but without Noah, my family, Hope, and of course, Allie, I know without a doubt that I wouldn’t have had the strength to get through it.
My body aches. I’m weak and have spent every day of the past five weeks throwing up, and what’s worse is that despite the side effects and the torture of having to endure the chemotherapy, I know I’ve failed. Dr. Sanchez hasn’t officially confirmed it yet, but I feel it in my gut. Feel it in the way my body continues to weaken, feel it in the way the nurses look at me with such sorrow. It’s as though I’m already dead.
I’ve failed.
My body is giving up, and it’s no longer a question of if I will die, it’s when.
I’m on all kinds of medication, including something for the pain. My kidneys didn’t appreciate the high dosage of chemotherapy, and neither did the rest of my body.
Dr. Sanchez said that there are other options for me, radiation therapy or stem cell transplant considering we can find a suitable donor. But she also said that the chemo was my best option for survival, and now that that’s failed, it doesn’t leave me with great odds. The only question is, when it comes time to start those alternate treatment plans, will I be strong enough to endure them?
My knee bounces on my bed as I hold a sleeping Allie to my chest, the anticipation of these test results making me want to be sick. I’ll be discharged as soon as Dr. Sanchez gives us the final results of my chemotherapy, then I’ll be sent home to try and put my life back together or figure out my next steps.
Don’t get me wrong, of course I’m desperately hoping for good news. I would love to know that the pain and torture of the past five weeks wasn’t all for nothing, that I’m going to miraculously recover from this a second time, but I’m also not willing to lie to myself either.
The small ray of hope I had that I could survive this has quickly dwindled and burned out, and now I’m just waiting on pins and needles for someone to tell me what I already know—I’m not getting any better.
Noah paces my room as I clutch Allie. She’s been my little sidekick for the past two weeks. She hasn’t left my side for a moment, even after Nurse Kelly found her hidden beneath my blankets. Where I go, she goes. Even if it’s just to have a shower. She’ll curl up on the floor mat and wait patiently as if knowing just how much I need her.
Allie has become my best friend, my sweet little baby, and getting to be her momma gave me everything I needed to get through the chemotherapy. I’ve been starting to wonder if perhaps that’s why Noah gave her to me in the first place. If maybe he knew how badly I needed something more to help push me through this. He’s always been so in tune with me, always knew what I needed before I did.