The Worst Day

March 25, 2013
A doctor in a plain white lab coat walks briskly into the waiting room, heading straight for me and my family. Bitterness fills me as I stare into his cold eyes, dreadful news written all over his face.

Cancer. Dylan, my seven year old brother, is dying from pancreatic cancer. Ever since he was a baby, he has been extremely sick. For years, Dylan has been transported from doctor to doctor, looking for a way to get better; but no one seemed to be able to cure him; as a result, he has had many tests run on his tiny little body, which has become thin and frail through the treatments and his illness; all of his beautiful blonde hair fell out and his bright green eyes seem to have lost all of their light; as the cancer travelled through him, the vigor of a healthy child vanished from him; the sight of him being so sick brought constant tears to my eyes.

“Gordon family, your son is ready to see you.” He, the doctor, has a monotone voice, holding so little emotion that I begin to think that he does not even care.

I follow him and my parents down a long hallway; Mom is crying into Dad’s shoulder and he has his arm secured tightly around her heaving shoulders. Just then, the doctor pauses at my brother’s door; I am scared to go in, because I know it will be the last time…it will be goodbye, and I’m not ready to do that.

“Kelly, don’t let him see you cry,” Dad says quietly to Mom as the doctor pushes the door open.

Lying on the bed, curled up beneath the blankets, is my little brother. My heart pounds heavily in my chest, and I try hiding how upset I am. Nervously, I walk towards Dylan; Mom is still sniffling from her earlier sobbing escapade. On the bedside table are cards and flowers, most from my family.

“Pam, I missed you,” Dylan’s small voice sounds thunderous in the silent room.

Quietly, I say, “I missed you too, baby; I love you so much.”

Random beeping noises come from a huge machine that is hooked up to Dylan; he looks so frail, like he could break at the slightest touch. Sadness takes over my mind as I look at him; I want to scream, “Why?!”, because an innocent baby boy should not be dying today, or any day as a matter of fact.

“The machine thingy won’t shut up,” Dylan mumbles grudgingly, looking up at me with those sad, gorgeous eyes.

Under the covers, his tiny body wiggled as he tried sitting up; I put my hands under his arms and gently helped him. Very weak, I think as he breathes heavily from the exertion of pushing himself up.

“When am I getting out of here,” he asks, sounding depressed; I answer, “Soon,” and then I start to cry.

“Xavier, help her,” Mom whispers to Dad before he envelops me in a hug; but I push him away, and lean down to Dylan and kiss him on the forehead.

“You’re crying for nothing, Pam; I’m good and I’ll be leaving and going home soon,” Dylan says, smiling; “You said so, and we’ll all be together again.”

Zap, and just like that, I am thrown into a new wave of hysteria. A few moments pass in awkward silence; Mom and Dad are trying not to cry, I am crying, and Dylan doesn’t understand what is happening.

Before Dylan could ask any questions, Mom walks over and sits on the bed next to him. Crying, she puts her arms around him, rocking him slowly back and forth; Dad and Mom talk soothingly to him, whispering “I love you” and “Be strong”. Dylan cries too, because he notices that this is not like our other visits, but he doesn’t know.

Everyone in the room but Dylan knows that he is going to die today; the doctor said that the systems in Dylan’s body were slowly shutting down, and that eventually his heart would stop functioning as well. Fear is the mutual feeling in this gray hospital room; we are all afraid of Dylan dying, because it feels so surreal that he is; no one wants to accept it, so we all try functioning on blind hope.

“Got any candy with you,” Dylan asks, wiping the tears from his eyes; I nod and hand him a Hershey’s chocolate bar, his favorite.

He is happy, “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he says as he scarfs down the chocolate bar; we sit and watch him, trying to capture this moment.

“I am so sleepy guys,” he says a few moments later, his eyes drooping shut; we all lean in close to him, Mom and Dad are by Dylan’s head and I am right by his legs; “You’re the best family ever,” he mumbles, turning into my Mom for warmth.

Just as Mom pulls him closer to her, the machine next to him makes a long, blaring noise, and we know Dylan is gone. Kissing him on the face, I get off the bed, letting Mom and Dad say their final goodbyes.

Listening to the horrible noise coming from the machine makes me so angry and sad that I rip the cord out of the electrical socket, enjoying how the machine declaring my brother’s death shuts down immediately. My eyes sting with tears and I feel so lost; I try avoiding looking at Dylan’s body so I leave the hospital room, leave my Mom’s strangled cry as she holds her dead baby, leave Dad as he prays for Dylan to come back.

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This article has 2 comments. Post your own now!

LexusMarie said...
Mar. 30, 2013 at 3:40 pm
Hello! I just wanted to tell you that you did such a great job capturing all the details and sounds and emotion. I'm crying. It's so sad, but it's great. Thank you for sharing..
capsgirl74 replied...
Apr. 2, 2013 at 10:00 am
Thank you very much! 
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