It’s been a couple of months since I’ve been admitted to the hospital. Just a couple of months of being solitary in a spotless, four walled room. The numerous flowers before me, were starting to whither daintily. Why do people bring in flowers to sick people; after blossoming stunningly, don’t flowers die in the end? It seemed as if they were sending a message resembling,





“Live your life gloriously, to the limit...because you’re going to die soon hun.”
How sentimental.
I catch a glimpse of the dazzling pink sky painted outside my white walls. It was the mesmerising sunset again. I could see the silhouettes of people walking their dogs and rollerblading into the great, blazing, topaz. In contrast, there’s me, locked like Rapunzel in a room with one window to dream out of. Except, I don’t have a long, golden plait; I have cancer and I’m bald.
When my family discovered chemotherapy- a supposed cure for cancer- they were seizing every opportunity for treatment. Unfortunately, the chemotherapy didn’t work; what could medicine do when the patient themselves had lost hope? I glance over at the tubes pierced in my arms. These contained fluids to cure the side effects I had encountered. After another month, they would remove the tubes, and repeat the treatment. I had the choice of either stopping or continuing. Anyone would have blindly picked the second option. The tubes catch my eye again; the mere objects that are keeping me alive. How easy they were to pull out! Ceasing the temptation, I close my eyes and ask myself,























“What am I living for?”













“ It’s for memories I’ve yet to make, times I’ve yet to laugh, breath takers I’ve yet to experience,’’ I hear a part of me replying. Reopening my eyes, I shrug away the crazy idea of pulling the tube!




I see a nurse rush across, a loving family, worried, the hushed voices of doctors and from a distance, a phone rings. Suddenly I feel sick, the tubes piercing into my arms look like spider venom injecting into me.
















“What am I living for?” I ask myself again.








For ridiculous exhaustion? Haywire sleep? To vomit blood? I don’t want to suffer anymore, I want to live the rest of my life to the limit. Just like the flowers beaming in front of me, I want to begin my adventures. I could feel my eureka moment rising, the clouds had parted and I knew I could do this. I tugged out the tubes, triumphant. My fight was over, but it was the most alive I had ever felt.