I lay in the hospital bed, attached and tangled in wires and IV’s. The IV’s in themselves made me weak, but the illness that has undoubtedly taken over my body made it hard to even stay conscience. I look down at my own arm. It is pale, and very thin. I take a deep, painful breath through the plastic tubes going into my nostrils. I know I don’t have long. Every breath is precious. Every single one.

I see my mother outside the window. She cannot even stand the sight of me. My poor, poor mother. She was so hopeful after we learned of my diagnosis, but when my doctor told her the exact day in which I should die, she lost all hope, as did I. She cried, and didn’t stop until yesterday. Yesterday was the day my doctor predicted my death. Yesterday, she died inside. Now she is an empty shell, waiting for me to die.  I lay here, looking up at the ceiling wondering if this very moment is my last moment. The thought itself is torment unlike any other. The thought is so powerful and so beyond our comprehension that we want everything to end immediately, just so we don’t have to think about it. But that’s the horrible thing about sickness. It tends to be slow.

I hear the door open. It’s the nurse.                     

“Hello darling, just here to check up on you. If you need anything just push the button on the lamp table.” the nurse says to me. Of course, I know what that button is for. It’s the button I push when I know I’m going, and when my family should come rushing in here.

But as the nurse leaves the room, he walks in. My fiancé, Craig. He proposed to me shortly after I was diagnosed with terminal cancer, but there was no time to marry. Besides, I’m only 19 and he’s 23. We would’ve never wed at such young ages. Craig removed his American Eagle baseball cap and sat down in the chair next to me. I think he thinks that I’m unconscious or sleeping, but to his surprise, I turn to him and smile. For one split second, I forgot everything. What was happening and where I was at wasn’t real. I was young, healthy and looking into the eyes of the love of my life. This all changed when his expression went from shock and happiness to tormented sadness. The change on his face made me want to sob and scream in anger, but I had lost all energy. I couldn’t even cry. I simply looked at him. He looked back at my longingly. It broke my heart to see him this way, but I could not imagine what he must have been going through, seeing me go and knowing he still had a full life to live.

I wanted to say something to him, but I hadn’t spoken in days. I didn’t know if I had the strength to use my voice, but I could feel my time with him slipping away. I built up as much strength as I could, and he watched in concern as I struggled to make myself speak. “Heather, don’t baby. Lay back down.”

“Craig”. I whispered in a soft, cracked voice.

“Yeah, Heather?” He replied, worrisome.

“Lay down with me.”

He stared at me and I could see tears building up in his eyes, which immediately flowed over his lower eye lids. He quickly wiped them away, trying to not let me see. He carefully climbed onto the bed with me, not saying anything. I reminded me of our first date. We were sitting in his car, very quiet like, and stared at each other. And just like our first date, when Craig laid down next to me, he intertwined his fingers with mine. My heart soared, but came crashing down. This was so perfect, but so wrong. I shouldn’t be here. I should be with him in our apartment, cuddled up on the couch watching our favorite movies, or going to see our favorite band. The reality of what was happening made me do something that I had not been able to do for weeks. Without any effort, I cried.

“No baby. Don’t cry.” Craig said as his own voice was cracking. “You know why? Because you will be okay. You don’t have to worry. Pretty soon, you’re going to be happier than me, your mom, or any of us could ever dream of being. So don’t you cry. You are going to be an angel.”

His words made me cling to him. No matter how many times the doctors told me I was going to die, it didn’t faze me as much as when he told me I would. I believed in him. I trusted in him. And now, he was beginning to let me go.

“No.” I weeped in his ear. “I don’t want to die; I don’t want to die…” I kept whispering. The words were making me rapidly lose my breath.

“Heather, it’s okay”. He kept saying while uncontrollable tears escaped from his eyes. “You will be okay. I promise.”

“You promise?” I whispered.

“Cross my heart”. He said, while actually crossing his heart.

I rested in his arms, while gliding my finger across his. I used all of my strength to pull him close so that we were now facing each other. He combed his fingers through my hair and kissed my forehead.

“Remember…” He started, catching a lump in his throat. “Remember all of the good times. Everything that has ever made you happy. Your childhood home, your teddy bear, the lake, us…” He trailed off, “Remember that.”

“I will.” I replied.

I sighed the deepest sigh, and relaxed in him. I began to think about all the things he asked me to remember, and as I began to remember, I could feel myself slipping away. I was so caught up in the happiness that I was feeling that I almost didn’t realize that doctors, family, friends, and my mom were rushing into my room. I came back from the total happiness and relaxation to say,

“I love you.”

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