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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14. fourteen. circling the drain of emotions.

"It;s good. BP's up. Pulse is strong. Everything's...good! Wwe can take out the tube. You're breathing over the vent now. It's good." says Dr. Mackenzie. His words give me a sliver of hope: possibly the only thing keeping me alive. But, he sounds worried. Apparently I've gotten better.

What is cancer, exactly? How does it work? How is it that I'm dying, but getting better?

"Ah..." I say, as the hard plastic tube is removed from my throat. I feel....good. Probably the best I've felt since I started treatment about five months ago. It's been a battle. An emotional rollercoaster: I've been pissed off, aggravated, terrified, upset. The black cord has changed me, but maybe it can let me go if I get even better. Maybe I'll even get to go home...

Mom walks into the room, bringing Alex with her. My mouth hangs open in shock, not because I was happy to see him, but because, through all my personal crap these last five months, I had completely forgotten about him.

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