Black Cord

A short little story about a young girl diagnosed with end stage melanoma, her fight to hold on to her hope, and to find her courage to let go and accept her fate.

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8. eight. and so it begins.

I started treatment today. A needle, some blood was taken. Then, a black cord. A red one. The slow and steady beat of my heart being resonated through the heart monitor. My mother decided that my course of treatment would be the chemo and radiation, though she knows I'm dead anyway. But I'm going to fight as long as I can.

Until it consumes me like it did Victoria.

"So, this is the cord that will deliver the medication to you. And once a day we'll wheel you down to radiation." Dr. Mackenzie's voice was calm. He'd done this a million times before. It was calming. Kind of soothing.

I utter my first words since admittance:

"Is it going to hurt?"

"Most likely, yes. You will be in some pain. You'll feel weak, dizzy, nauseous. Yu may even pass out a few times. Eventually, your hair may start to fall out. But, I want you to be strong. You can fight it, even if only a little bit. You can't win, hell, the truth is, you won't win. But it's something to be accomplished. It's something worth fighting against."

Oh God. That's reassuring.

Out of the corner of my eye, I can see my mom bawling. It must be hard knowing that the child you've raised for the last fourteen years is going to die because you may have been a little ignorant. She won't see her sweet 16. She won't drive. She won't drink. She'll never be able to see an 18A movie. She won't get married. She won't have kids. She won't....live.

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