Twelve Years Old and Going on Eighty

Cramping pains jolted through my belly and up into my chest. I rolled over and pulled my legs up against me tightly, I could feel my hipbones digging into the mattress, and it didn't feel good. I'd lost so much weight that no matter what position I sat or laid in I couldn't get comfortable. Despite the fact that I’m twelve years old, I barely reach sixty-five pounds. 1

“Kristy’s anorexic, that’s why she’s so skinny.” 2

“Liz heard her throwing up in the bathroom after lunch.” 3

“Did you know that the reason Kristy barely eats is because she has an eating disorder?”4

The rumors were everywhere, the more popular seventh and eighth grader threw them all over the place until I got too sick to go to school anymore.5

“Aren’t you going to eat your lunch?” Maddy used to pester me. Shrugging my shoulders I would look away from her and her knowing looks she was shooting over to her clique of friends who were giggling in the corner. I was always too nauseous from my treatments to eat and nobody except the school nurse knew what was the real cause of my so-called “eating disorder”. I planned to keep it that way too. I was afraid of the way people would treat me if they knew I had a malignant tumor growing inside of me.6

“The truth is that kids are scared of what’s happening to you. They don’t know what to make of it,” a social worker at the hospital where I got my treatments explained to me one day when I told her about the rumors and nasty comments.
The truth was I didn’t quite know what to make of it either. The year before I’d been a normal kid who loved sports, hanging out with friends, and video games. Then I got diagnosed with cancer and everything changed.7

One morning shortly after I had started my first chemotherapy treatments, I woke up with several clumps of my thick red hair lying on my pillow. I felt like the last piece of myself, of my old life, had fallen out with that hair.8

I was angry, angry with myself, at life, at the girls who had teased me, and even angry with my family and my mom.9

“Kristy, you need to take your meds,” mom would remind me four times a day.10

“Just leave me alone. I’ll take them, you don’t have to keep
reminding me all the time,” I’d snap. “I can take care of myself.”11

“Do you want me to read you Peter Pan?” Mom would ask me. Some of my pain medications made it so I saw the pages of books as streaky blurs and blobs. I’d been in the middle of reading Peter Pan when I started to have problems seeing clearly. My mom had started to read the rest of it aloud to me.12

“Just don’t bother me right now,” I would moan. “I hate you, I bet it’s your genes that gave me cancer. Your genes are killing me.” Mom’s skin lightened to a white pallor. She just stood there for a moment, fidgeting with the hem on the sleeve of her blouse. Her green eyes that look so much like mine got really big and wet. I could see her features quiver as she fought to maintain a steady expression, but as soon as she left my room I could hear the choking sound of her sobs pouring out of her. The sobs triggered something deep inside me. 13

I rolled over on my side and pulled my battered teddy bear with the red ribbon into the concave of where my belly used to be. My own jaw was clenched as tight as my mom’s had been as I tried to fight back the tears heating up my eyes. I couldn’t hold them back. They streamed down my face like a waterfall of pure pain. I stared at the door where my mom had been standing and tried to mentally will her back. When she didn’t come back I felt abandoned and guilty. The summer sun beat down on my body through the large picture window of my room; I squirmed under the heat of it and tried to pull my blankets off my sweaty body, but I was too weak. I needed my mom to help me, and she wanted to be there for me. She wanted to be able to help me because she loved me and felt just as powerless as I did against the tumors. I remember a therapist in the hospital telling me that, but it hadn’t really sunk in until that moment. Ever since that day, I haven’t been as angry anymore. 14

Most of the time lately, I’ve been too sick to get angry anyway. The doctors stopped the chemotherapy a month ago. They stopped the radiation a week ago. It was all my decision. Even though I’m only twelve, my parents have mostly been letting me make the decisions about my treatment. 15

“It’s your body, Kristy,” mom had told me when the doctors sat down with me in a little conference room with lime green walls and a bunch of hard backed chairs in a circle around a long table. 16

“The cancer has metastasized and is now not only in your pancreas but in your lungs and liver too,” The doctor kept his tone steady and looked at my chart, not my parents or me, as he spoke.17

“What are the options?” I’d asked, sitting up in my wheelchair as straight and tall as I could manage. My voice shook, but only a little. Sometimes I needed to appear stronger then I felt, for my parent’s sake. Sometimes I felt like I was the grown-up and they were the kids. That’s what happens when you go through hell I guess.18

“The tumors are inoperable, because of their locations. The chemotherapy hasn’t been helping, and neither has the radiation. We can try some experimental treatments, but they could just make you feel sicker and not even help you in the long run.” The doctor explained. Then he told me about hospice and the idea of spending my last few months at home.19

So much ran through my head at once, but in the end I knew I couldn’t take any more painful treatments, I couldn’t take anymore needles and tubes and surgeries. Most of all I wanted to be home where I felt most comfortable and where the people I loved were.20

“I want to stop the treatments.” I told the doctor, this time I couldn’t stop my voice from shaking. My mom was tearing up at the corners of her eyes, my dad’s head was ducked down low and I could see his shoulders shaking. I was the only one who didn’t cry. Instead of crying I released my death grip on the arms of the wheelchair and reached out with both arms. In one hand I squeezed my mom’s hand, and in the other my dad’s. It was funny that I was the one dying and the one doing the reassuring at the same time.
Even now, as I lay in bed, shaking with the horrible cramping pain, even now I don’t cry. I’m too grown up for that. I’ve grown up fast this last year. Sometimes it feels more like I’m eighty then twelve. I guess that’s a good thing though, because who wants to die at twelve?21

I hear footsteps outside my door. It’s my mom coming to check on me and make sure that the bag attached to my catheter doesn’t need to be emptied.22

“Hey Kristy, are you doing all right?” She asks.23

I nod, even though I’m not fine.24

“Do you want me to sit with you for a little while?” She asks me.
I nod, because sometimes even grown ups need their moms. 25

Mom leans in and hugs me; I can smell the strawberries and cream shampoo she uses. She pulls up a chair beside my bed and tells me about her day. I smile and drink up the familiar soothing tones of her voice. My room suddenly feels less suffocating and more comforting. Mom pulls my sky blue comforter up over my body that has betrayed me, pats my shoulder gently and then asks me if I want to hear more Peter Pan. 26

I nod again. I like the story about the boy who never had to grow up. 27

I let myself cry. Mom hugs me again. I guess sometimes even kids who grow up too fast need to cry. 28


Author notes

my user name is Frostany

Alcholic kind of mood, lose the clothes lose the lube."

A contest entry

Please tell me what you think

    : , Your review:

    Comment Suggestion: What is your your first impression?
    : Cost: 0 free left 0 points, You have 0. (?) (Line numbers)
    Ratings:

Comments

1 - 16 of 16

  • Sunless Spirit
    December 24, 2008

    Edit | Reply
    I almost cried. This story is amazing.
    I feel sorry for the parents too.
    THIS IS TOO MUCH FOR ME TO BEAR!


  • asthray.heart
    October 3, 2008

    Edit | Reply
    This was sad, fast and choppy but it was enough to make you feel for the character. Especially when the girls treated her bad at school, even her friend.

    Emotive.

    Thanks for entering and goodluck..

    Lady Madeline.


  • Lonesome Dove
    October 3, 2008

    Edit | Reply
    You definately know how to tug at the heart strings. You pulled me in right from the beginning with the teasing and anorexia comments... girls are so mean. Then the nausea from the treatments, the fight with her mother and her comforting her parents. Her not crying... until the end broke me down. Fabulous story. Good Luck in the contest.


  • Living.Disaster
    September 29, 2008

    Edit | Reply
    this made me cry and well it takes a sad story to do that so.....this was sad,but in a good way because it was a beautiful story.....Keep wtiting you very good at it..


  • Kevan gold member
    September 27, 2008

    Edit | Reply
    Wow, that was a really good story. I especially like your ending line:

    "I guess sometimes even kids who grow up too fast need to cry."

    That line was inspirational and really well written, as was the whole story. Great job and good luck!

    xoxox
    Kevan.


  • tallblondie gold member
    May 2, 2008
    Edit | Reply
    Overall, a well written and emotive piece. Some decriptive language was utilised, but not as a balance to the emotion elicited. Most of the emotion came from the subject matter alone, and the remainder from your treatment of your character's story.

    Thank you for your entry and good luck.


  • emperess27
    January 16, 2008

    Edit | Reply
    That was such a sad story, It really made me cry when she blamed her mother for the faulty genes. Oh, it was so detailed. This was an amazing story. Well Done. Kais


  • This Will Hurt
    January 14, 2008
    Edit | Reply
    I'm so happy that you decided to enter my contest, because that really did make me cry! It was everything I was looking for, but even more. I really got sad at the part when she talked about reassuring her parents and trying to keep strong. Thank-you so much for entering, and good luck! I'm still sad!

  • Writing0Freedom
    January 10, 2008

    Edit | Reply
    This touched my heart from beginning to end starting with the teasing of her being anorexic which is heartbreaking enough down to her having cancer and losing herself. There is so much pain conveyed by this character and so much strength at the same time. It was interesting that she chose to stop the treatments and I liked the independent aspect of it but at the same time it was so sad that she felt like she had really no other choice and believed she would die anyway. This is a beautifully written piece! Fabulous work!
    Thanks so much for entering!
    WritingFree


  • stardust3492
    January 10, 2008

    Edit | Reply
    This is a very good piece. Just please include the option number in the Author's notes. Good job and good luck in the contest.


  • yumesandman
    January 4, 2008

    Edit | Reply
    The title made me think of the movie Thirteen Going On Thirty (or whatever that one movie was called). This definitely wasn't that movie.

    It's good, it really is. I like the realism of it all, with the girl's friends at school teasing her and how she fought with her mother. Even healthy kids don't know how to apologize to their parents, so why should the ill ones?

    You did a great job, you really did. Kudos.


  • Asfand
    August 16, 2007
    Edit | Reply
    wow....this srsly touched my heart form beginning to end. This is one of the most powerful stories here at Sw, and I could not simply leave the page.

    wow, you have left em speechless. No descriptions, no fancy dialogue, just emotion, and it was mind-blowing in its originality and...wow!


  • hobo kiti
    August 12, 2007

    Edit | Reply
    Awesome. I mean, yeah, really sad... but you got all the emotion in there... wonderfully.

    I really like that last bit with the mom and peter pan. These are details that help set the mood, ease the reader into the end, and peter pan totally ties in to the theme. So... no offense to the person who didn't like it... but to hell with that.

    Very nice story, good luck in the contest.


  • Bitter Irony
    August 1, 2007

    Edit | Reply
    Wow! Excellent, powerful story.

    I have only two suggestions to make: one, change phrases like "I was really angry" to be more specific. For the most part, you give great details: try to carry it on when discussing emotions.

    Secondly, consider cutting the last few paragraphs after "sometimes even grown ups need their moms". They don't add anything to the story, and they actually stress the reader's patience: the details of how her mother smells and what her voice sounds like are distracting after such an emotional read, and the bit about Peter Pan feels tacked on. If you want to keep it, consider referencing the book a little earlier in the story.

    "because who wants to die at twelve." Consider ending this with a question mark.

    But overall, those are very small suggestions. :-) This story is great, absolutely publishable. Thanks for entering the contest, and good luck!

    beginning: 3, language: 4, plot: 4, ending: 4, dialog: 3, characters: 4.

  • frostany
    July 27, 2007
    Edit | Reply
    This could be published in some kind of teen magazine.

    AN OLD WOMAN
    CARRYING A BALLOON
    HUFFS AND PUFFS


  • Taylor Renee
    July 21, 2007

    Edit | Reply
    I'm crying.
    This was so sad. It was just what I wanted, and you got the option perfectly. I child grows up on the inside because of something that's happening to their body. This was really beautiful. Cancer is such a horrible thing, and it's so sad that it happens to children every day. I am actually writing a story about a teen who has leukemia. Everything about cancer scares me.
    So this really got me into it. And you wrote it really well, I love how it's in the point of view of the child who's going through it. It makes it all the better.
    Oh yeah, and it's a new story.That's great.
    I loved this. Wonderful job, good luck and thanks so much for your entry!
    xoxo
    Tay

1 - 16 of 16