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always the optimist | ella
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“Can I get a nose piercing dad?” I asked looking up from my phone, pouting my lips. “Pretty pllleeaasssseeee,” I whined, looking over at dad who’s face was covered by the newspaper.
Damn. Now I can’t use the puppy dog eyes.
I sighed in despair when dad didn’t answer. I swear that man is as deaf as a doorknob sometimes. “Dad? Hello? Earth to the doorknob?” I wriggled around on the cold lino of the bench trying to get his attention but flinched when something sharp stabbed into my butt.
“Stupid hospitals,” I mumbled as I continued to wriggle, now trying to get comfortable from the lumpy mat rather than get dad’s attention, but I came to a stop when I heard a loud sigh sound from dad.
“Stop moving Ella, you’ll bump the drainer,” Dad says, before finally remembering what I asked and throwing down the newspaper with a huff. “Why would you want a nose piercing? I don’t think you can even have one with your breathing tube ellaphant.”
So he did hear me… interesting.
I sighed as what he said suddenly set in with realisation.
Damn that tube. It was bad enough I have to carry an oxygen canister with me let alone having something sticking out of your nose all the time. “Can’t we at least check with Doctor Molune?” I asked sweetly batting my eyelashes at dad.
He just shook his head at me and gave me the look and sighed.
We all know that look.
“I suppose we can ask. He wanted to meet us after draining today.”
“So no?”
“I just said we’d ask El,”
“I’m not stupid dad, don’t worry about it,” I mumbled quietly looking down at my feet and swinging them back and forth as I became entranced in my thoughts.
I hate when people do that. Say ‘maybe’, or ‘I suppose’. We all know that they really mean no. ‘No, you can’t do it. But I don’t want to hurt your feelings, so I’ll say maybe so you have hope. False hope.
I hate it. It’s as if actually saying no is going to break me. It’s not.
After all, you can’t break what’s already broken.
“Soooo… do you know why Doc want’s to see me?” I asked curiously, trying to steer us back to another conversation, butterflies soaring around in stomach at all the possibilities of him wanting to see me.
You see, every day we come to draining, but we only ever see Doc. on Mondays.
Today was Thursday.
“No. But he mentioned that it was about something that could be beneficial to you. Could be a new treatment?” He said, head hidden behind his newspaper again, his body slouched in the chair.
Ahhh. Treatment. Gotta love it.
You see. I have lung cancer.
I know clichΓ© right?
There’s a growth in my lungs disrupting it’s walls and potentially tearing a hole in it. We don’t exactly know, and we probably won’t.
So, you’re probably wondering the big question, why don’t they take the tumour out? I mean. I thought that too. Easy peasy lemon breezy. Just cut that bugger of a thing out, slap a band-aid on and send me on my way.
Except it doesn’t work like that apparently. As it so turns out in my case, taking it out would cause more damage than leaving it in there. It doesn’t really matter to me anymore though. I’m going to die anyway.
The tumour that disrupts my lung wall, causes this tiny gap between the wall where it’s started to tear and through that gap my lungs constantly fill with liquid, it slowly leaks into my actual lungs, thus drowning me.
Take it out. I’ll drown completely within 24 hours.
Leave it in, and I’ll slowly drown as it starts to tear more and fill faster, as cancer spreads around my body, shutting it down.
Every breath hurts, it’s a constant struggle. Hence the tube that sticks up my nose 24/7 to help me breathe, and the daily lung draining. I mean it’s not pretty, but I least it’s not chemo.
We’ve already been there, and it was not pretty.
So basically, my life sucks.
I spend 2 hours a day in this white, boring hospital room, covered in goosebumps as I freeze and drown to death. All the while I have a giant needle in my ribs to assist in draining my lung wall.
It won’t be for much longer though.
They only gave me six months to live at best.
It’s been four months. I’m living on borrowed time.
I was pulled out of my thoughts as a knock sounded on the door, a dirty blonde head with a white cap on, peeked in.
“How are you going, Ella?” Nurse Aldine asked, a bright smile lighting up her face.
She’s my favourite nurse, always smuggling me some sort of sugar.
Man, I love sugar. I know. I know. ‘Sugar’s bad for you’ you’re probably all thinking. Well, I’ve reached the stage where I just don’t care anymore. If I’m going to die, I’m going to do it well.
What’s that saying? Not with a fizzle, but out with a bang?
Well hell, I’m not going out with a bang. I’m going out with a nuclear bomb.
Because what can I say? I’m extra like that.
“Ella? How are you?” Aldine asks again, reminding me of the conversation happening around me and not in my thoughts.
“Good. The usual ya know? You?”
“I’m good Ella.” She smiled softly. All the nurses were nice to me. I guess that’s one benefit of being the dying girl and not a grumpy old bastard.
“Time to get this out girli, ready?” I nodded, already grimacing. This part was the worse, pulling the needle out. “1, 2, 3”
The sharp pain swamped my body. “Ahhh son of a bitch,” I hissed.
“Ellaphant language,” Dad said lifting his eyebrows. He was next to me now helping Aldine place the bandage on.
“Sorry, dad.” I murmured.
That’s my dad alright. You would think dying would give you a swearing hall pass.
Apparently not in his books. I mean, to be honest, I don’t even swear… that much.
“There. All good to go.” She said patting down the bandage a final time.
“Thanks, Aldine,” Dad and I said at the same time, as I jumped down from the bench, white vans hitting the tiled floor.
“No problem sweetie. Have a great day, I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Of course you will. Bye.” I gave her a quick wave as we walked out into the stark hall.
“Let’s go see Doc. Shall we?” Dad said holding his arm out to me. I grabbed his arm and linked it with mine.
“We shall” I giggled, skipping down the hall, dad at my side.
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Doc’s door swung open just before I knocked. “Hey! How’s my favourite patient?” He said smiling, everything about him perfectly composed.
I reckon he say’s that to everyone, the traitor.
“The same as always doc, just casually dying, as you do,” I said with a grin. Dad shook his head muttering as he looked at the ground. Doc just kept smiling, he’s probably thinking he should refer me to a psychiatric ward right now.
I like that. Making people question my sanity. Makes life fun.
“Always the optimist Ella.” He said with a chuckle. We walked into his office taking a seat.
I sunk down into the cushioned chair and the warm air flowed from the heater onto my face. Ahhh. That’s better. No cold lino or room.
“So, no problem’s this week? You feeling okay?” Doc asked, forcing me to open my eyes and leave the warm embrace.
“As well as I can be,” I said, now eager to find out the real reason for him asking me here.
“Now you’re probably wondering why I asked you here today.” He asked us.
Well, no shit Sherlock. I thought as I nodded eagerly, my dad doing the same, tension skimming the lines of his face, his heavy swallow clearing the silence of the room.
“You see, I would like Ella to go to rehab.”
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Have I told you guys how much I love y’all? I love y’all so sooooo much.
If you like this chapter don’t forget to vote and until next time.
*Edited a.k.a I tried to fix this mess but I probably won’t ever 100% be happy with it but oh well…*
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A big special thankyou to TrashHead1 for this beautiful Ella Aesthetic – I love it so much and full on squealed when I got it…
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