Page 3 of A Dead Girl's Guide to Living
“Because it’s always been aboutafter,” I told her with a shaky laugh. “Except there’s never been one. You know, I can’t even remember the first time I got sick. All I remember are hospitals and my mom crying, like all the time.”
I rubbed my temples and took another sip of water, as if that could soothe the tension clawing at me.
“Mom said it happened after a family trip to Disneyland. I actually remember some of that. Anyway, I got sick when wegot home. Fevers, bruises, exhaustion. My school even called Child Services on my parents when I showed up with bruises on the back of my neck. Not child abuse, though. Just acute lymphoblastic leukemia.”
Dr. Mason nodded but remained silent.
I kept my gaze unfocused as I stared into my glass, my mind pulling me back.
“It was the first time I’d ever seen my mom cry. I remember it like it was yesterday. She lost it in the doctor’s office. Dad... Dad held it together. He always did, at least in front of people. I never told him I saw him in the kitchen once, breaking down in the middle of the night.”
I inhaled sharply, ignoring the ache that ran through me. How clearly I had understood whatdespairmeant at that age, even when I hadn’t known there was a word for it.
I didn’t understand it, but Ifeltit.
“Anyway, the first round of treatment worked. I went into remission. Honestly, my memories of the first time are really hazy. I don’t remember a whole lot from back then. I just remember sleeping and being sick. Mom says I was on maintenance chemo for another twelve months, and I had regular, like, bone marrow biopsies and stuff. But I got better.”
A loud honking came from outside. Neither of us paid it any attention.
“At that age, it was all exciting, you know? I didn’t actually know what was happening, I was just getting a lot of attention. My parents made such a big deal about it, and my brother—” I almost choked on air at the thought of him, the ache flooding in, sharp and unforgiving. “Everyone was so excited,” I continued, forcing myself forward. “Mom and Dad started laughing again. I painted the front door with Mom. I remember that. Vibrant red with yellow flowers. It looked ridiculous, but it was cute.”
Dr. Mason smiled, nodding.
“Life was going great,” I said airily, feeling the ire rise within me. “Thomas—you remember my brother—he started playing sports again. Mom and Dad would go to his games, and I got to watch. Mom started working again. I was… I was making friends at school. Then it came back. Out of nowhere.”
I inhaled sharply and picked at a loose thread on the sleeve of my sweater.
“It was worse this time,” I said weakly. “Maybe because I was old enough to understand things a bit more. I spent months in isolation because my immune system completely failed me. I lost all my hair that I’d been growing back… these beautiful red ringlets that I’ve never been able to grow again.”
I pursed my lips and patted my hair, the vibrant red waves resting just above my breasts. No natural curls anymore. Completely gone.
“I had to have a bone marrow transplant. I was pumped with really strong chemo.” I clicked my tongue and shook my head. “It was bad this time. They thought I wasn’t going to make it. I had family members I only ever saw once a year coming by weekly to visit. To see my parents. You know it’s bad when your extended family starts showing up, right? Even I thought I was a goner.”
“But you weren’t,” Dr. Mason said softly, and I looked at her.
“No,” I muttered, feeling the wetness behind my eyes. “I wasn’t. I went into remission. I somehow beat whatever the fuck was crippling me. I was scared after that, I won’t lie. I obsessively monitored myself from that point on. I was a borderline hypochondriac. The slightest runny nose had me rushing to my mother. I was convinced I was dying all the time.”
“Which is understandable,” Dr. Mason told me gently. “Given your age and what you had gone through. You learned and understood death from a young age, Ellis. Your obsessionwith it is normal, even if a bit unhealthy. But you went into remission. You beat it.”
I wrinkled my nose and shook my head. “I mean, I guess I reached a point where I started feeling normal again. When I got sick, I got very sick. Bad flus, bad colds—whatever. I lived with it. I went to school, started junior high, but then I started getting exhausted all the time.”
I let out a humorless laugh. “I mean, I thought I was being dramatic, and Mom thought I just wasn’t used to regular school hours, which was fair. She’d homeschooled me for most of my education.”
I ran a hand through my hair as the impending memories loomed up on me. “I couldn’t climb the stairs without getting winded. It wasn’t normal. My heart would race even when I wasn’t doing anything. I—I…” My throat tightened, and I took a breath. “I ignored it. I just… I couldn’t face something else being wrong. Not again. I started hiding it from Mom. You know, I was doing well in school. I had a girlfriend. Things were good. Ineededgood.”
I looked down at my hands as my eyes burned.
“I kept pretending I was fine until one day my body decided for me, and I collapsed in the middle of the cafeteria during lunch.” I shook my head at myself and met Dr. Mason’s eyes. “Do you know what? It’s not even the passing out part that’s humiliating. It’s the fact that I pissed myself when I did it. Someone filmed it. It was fucked.”
“That was the day you found out, right?” Dr. Mason asked carefully. “The day you found out you had heart failure?”
“Yep,” I said on a sigh, popping thep. “That was a real fun conversation. Learning that the chemo, the one thing that had been promised tofixme, was the reason my heart was failing. Chemotherapy-induced cardiomyopathy.”
The chemo had done its job. It had killed my cancer. But in its relentless rampage through my body, it had also poisoned my heart. The very drugs meant to save my life had sentenced me to death in the same breath.
"You have a weak heart now, Ellis,"the doctor had told me gravely over her spectacles."It’s only going to become weaker."
“They started me on medication first. A shit-ton of it. Beta-blockers, ACE inhibitors, diuretics—I had a full pharmacy in my bathroom,” I said with a laugh.
