#he’s fine now he isn’t in pain but as soon as his cancer progresses he will have to be put down so he doesn’t suffer for nothing

[irlplasticlamb]

i’m so sorry if i seem a bit off or post less in the next week or so — i just found out my beloved 17 years old soulmate cat got diagnosed with bone cancer and he doesn’t have much time left. he lives in my family home with my parents still whilst i’m abroad so it’s double tough because i can’t be with him. i just need some time to calm down and make my peace with everything

[forever--darling]

not too far away - s.m. (part thirteen)

a/n: where he tests the race of time and she finally goes under

also listen to heaven’s not too far away by we three. this song gave me the idea for this series in the first place!! One more part left guys!

warnings: 10.4k words of heartbreak, the waiting game, and everything coming to light 

XIII. heaven’s not too far away pt.2 

her

“Y/N/N, you doing okay in there?”

The voice came from Demi, on the other side of the bathroom door. She had gotten you at four like you planned and carried your overnight bag into the car. She drove you to the hospital with all your favorite songs playing through the speakers and you hadn’t been able to talk through the whole ride. Instead, you stared out the passenger window, forehead against the glass, in case it was your last time seeing the city. 

You couldn’t get yourself to look away from all of the streets and buildings you passed because this and Pickering was the only place you knew. You hadn’t been anywhere and you hadn’t done anything. It was heartbreaking because there were so many places you wanted to go and so many things you wanted to do but there was a chance you wouldn't be able to. So, you just took in the home you knew, hoping it would stick with you forever. Even when your phone vibrated in your lap, knowing it was from Shawn, you still couldn’t depart from the cool window that was calming down the stirring that was happening inside your stomach.

“Yeah,” you yelled back, eyes locked onto your form in the mirror before you turned around to unlock the door to see Demi stood on the other side. “Could you tie this for me?”

She smiled, that small Demi smile, and nodded. Standing behind you, you watched in the mirror as her fingers took the two strings at the base of your neck and tied them together, tightening the hospital gown around your frame. You felt frozen as your orbs scanned over your reflection. It was like a year and a half ago all over again except this time you weren’t underweight and on the brink of death. Hand gripping tightly to your arm, nails digging into the skin, you felt as Demi’s hand clasped gently around your shoulder. Turning your head, you smiled sadly at her before moving out of the bathroom and back into your hospital room they had assigned to you.

Pulling back the white crisp sheets, you crawled into the bed and tugged them over your bare legs that were covered in a pair of blue sleeping shorts that were hidden under the gown. Your fingers fiddled with the hospital band around your wrist as outside the door, your family stood talking to Patty with soft smiles. Even if someone was having the worst day in their life, she still could make them smile because she was that kind of person.

“Hey, Dem, could you reach into my bag over there and take out that large grey book?” you asked, sinking further into the pillows on the bed.

Lucky for you, since you had been around the hospital so long, you knew where to get all the best pillows and the softest blankets. Courtesy of Patty, of course. Being one of her favorite patients after all this time was a plus because she always hooked you up to the best stuff in the hospital; the best food, the secret to getting the best TV channels, and the best rooms. The rooms that always had a view on the side of the building where if you looked out the window, you could see the city lights. I’m sure all of these things would mean so much if you didn’t feel like you were about to die.

Your thoughts were brought back to reality as you felt the thick book in your lap. It was a scrapbook. The final gift you had to give out for the day. It was for your family. For the three most important people in your life, with a few pages dedicated to a few other people. You knew this was a way you would always live on. To have a book, covered back to front with of all the greatest memories, shared as a family. You loved them more than anything and if you weren’t going to be able to pull through this, you needed them to be able to get through that fact.

The scrapbook was a 12 x 12 and the cover was a light grey. A square was cut out of the front like a window, left to place a photo in the front. You had chosen one from the summer, where you all were snuggled around the campfire under the sky, faces illuminated only by the flames and the flash that came from the camera. It was months after you had been released from the hospital after being cured from treatment and at the time, your hair had only grown out to the bottom of your jaw compared to where it was now towards the top of your shoulders. Within the book, every single page was filled from pictures that you either ordered and picked up at the local pharmacy or had to dig through old boxes in that attic to find but you managed to do it.

It had been a work in progress for months, at first just being a regular gift, but now a going away gift it felt like. It was like a journey, the first pages showing pictures from when you and James were young and then taking a skip to high school and then to when you had been diagnosed with cancer. 

Every family picture you had managed to find a place for. All to be decorated in their own unique ways with stickers, scrapbook paper, quotes you had printed or written. You had even used glitter which was not apartment friendly. From there, you had made individual pages for each of them. A few for your mom and dad and then some for James. You even threw in a couple for Demi, Shawn and Aaliyah and a few other friends you had in high school before you all graduated and went your separate ways. 

Thinking about it now, you hadn’t heard from most of them for years and it wouldn’t be a huge shock that probably none of them knew about you being sick, but to be fair that was fine with you. The fewer people to know about it the better.

A sad smile had pulled at the corner of your lips as you opened the book and began to flip through the pages you had spent hours filling up at one point. Your fingers traced over the way each page felt and your eyes scanned everything making sure it was all perfect. At the sound of the door though, you closed the book and looked up to meet the eyes of your father. They looked tired but still sparkled as they laid on you. Right behind him was your mother and James.

“Hey, bug how are you feeling?” your dad asked, walking over towards the side of the bed.

“I’m doing alright,” you responded, head falling back into the feathery pillows.

He smiled, eyes crinkling as he did so, “That’s what I like to hear.”

“Honey, what’s this?” your mom’s voice filled your ears and you followed her gaze down to the book in your lap.

Your chest instantly became warm as you tilted the book so it faced the three of them, “It’s a scrapbook. I made it for you guys.”

Your mom’s hands gripped the front of the book, eyes starting to glaze over as she looked at the cover photo and as soon as she flipped it open to the first few pages, all of the tears started to fall. You kind of felt bad, making so many people cry in one day but technically it wasn’t your fault. It’s the fucking cancer’s.

Your dad’s eyes were getting hazy now too. The inner Bradley was coming out. “Y/N-”

“I just want you to know that whatever happens, I’m not going anywhere. I’m always going to be here,” you cut your dad off, voice soft and low already feeling all energy lost and prep for surgery hadn’t even started.

You could only hope that what you said felt uplifting to your family but there was a small chance that it only made them more sad. Either way, your dad moved the railing from the side of the bed down and climbed in next to you. His arm wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you into his dad embrace. One that was tight and secure but not too much that you weren’t able to breathe properly. It was comfortable and felt safe. It made your fears disappear by the comfort of your dad and his arms.

“I love you,” he whispered into your hair.

“I love you too.”

Feeling the palm of your mom’s hand on your leg, over the blankets, you no longer felt scared of what would be happening in the next few hours. You knew that whatever happens, happens and there isn’t anything you can do about it.

Eyes looking up and past your mother, your gaze locked with your older brother who hadn’t said a word to you yet. He was silent, arms crossed over his chest, hands gripping his biceps tightly. His hair was messy and bags were present under his eyes that appeared drowsy and all around sad. He was chewing on his bottom lip, those eyes that matched yours glancing down your frame towards the scrapbook. His Adam's apple was bobbing and he was trying so hard to not cry. 

You had never seen him look this broken, so out of hope, and at a dead end. History was repeating itself and though you wished he could, your big brother couldn’t protect you from this. He may have for everything else in your life whether it was keeping you from falling off of your bike to making sure all of the asshat boys would stay away from you and to fixing those endless rainy days by shining some sunlight on them. He had always been seen as your older brother, the one who would keep you safe from whatever was thrown your way in life, but there are just some things he can’t save you from, and that was the painful truth he would have to face.

+

him

“How’s that sound?” Shawn asked, taking the headphones off, as his foot tapped against the floor of the sound booth.

Teddy was nodding, a genuine smile on her face, “It sounds really good, Shawn.”

“Yeah?” he asked, voice lifting at the excitement that was forming within his chest.

“Yeah,” Teddy confirmed, finger pressing on the microphone button on the outside of the booth, “I think we are really onto something.”

He sent her an innocent smile, “Can I take a break then.”

She chuckled, “Yes you can take a break.”

Letting out a sigh of relief, Shawn trampled out of the sound booth, instantly going for the water bottle he had been sipping on to relieve the tension and soreness that was forming in his throat. He unscrewed the top and began to drink of what was left, swallowing it in one large gulp. The coolness washing down the dryness that had formed from trying to sing the same verse over and over again. He was about to move across the room towards the mini fridge to take another bottle out, when he heard his phone vibrating against the coffee table where it was sat abandoned since his last break.

Tossing the empty plastic bottle into a nearby trash, he scooped the phone up in his hand to find James’s name across the top of his phone screen. Instantly, Shawn became a little confused about why the older Y/L/N was calling but answered and moved out into the vast hallway to gain some privacy.

“James, hey, what’s up?” he asked, a surprised chuckle falling from his parted lips.

“She’s lying to you.”

Shawn’s eyebrows furrowed as he leaned his back against the wall in the hallway, slightly worried about the tone that was evident in James’s voice. “What? What are you talking about?”

There was a pause, James taking a deep breath could be heard through the phone, and Shawn knew whatever he was going to say wasn’t going to be good, “Y/N. She’s lying to you, Shawn. She’s sick again.”

Shawn’s throat became dry, though he had just had some water. He was stunned into silence for a few seconds, “How bad is it?”

“She doesn’t have to go through chemo again, thank god, but she’s having surgery. She’s getting the cancer cells removed,” James explained, sounding completely broken up about it.

“When’s the surgery?” he asked the reality that this was actually happening not able to set in. He had left her the day prior and she hadn’t said anything. She had let him walk out of the door, knowing that she was sick and she didn't tell him. He thought they had gotten over this but deep down it was like they were sixteen all over again.

Another pause. “Today, at six. It’s about four o’clock in Toronto right now.”

“Shit,” Shawn mumbled frustratingly, hand coming up to scrub across his face, “How long has she fucking known and not wanted to tell me.”

“I don’t know when she found out but she didn’t tell us until after her birthday,” James replied, “She told everyone else about it today. Shawn your parents and Aaliyah are here. She didn’t want you to know, my guess the same reasons why she didn’t the first time we were in this situation but I walked into that hospital room and I realized I’m done doing what she wants. I should be doing what she needs and what she needs right now is you. She could die, it’s a risk with this surgery and you just need to be here.”

“Fuck,” he cried out loud, hand slapping against the wall next to him, “Okay, I’m on my way. I’m going to get on the nearest flight and I’ll be there in five hours tops.”

“You’re not going to make it,” James said sadly.

“I know,” he yelled back, “But I have to try. Just please keep me updated on how she’s doing.”

With that, Shawn hung up the phone and within that short phone call, his world had shifted. He had woken up the happiest he had been in a long time, and now felt like his heart had just been broken in half. Slipping the phone into his back pocket, he stormed back into the studio and began to tear apart the room in search of his car keys. His face was a shade of white, and his eyes were misty and everyone had not been ready for such a mood change in him. In fact, this was a way they had never seen him before.

“Shawn, what’s going on?” Teddy asked being the first to pick up on his panicked state.

“I need to find my keys,” he explained, breathlessly ripping the pillows off of the small couch that was sat in the corner of the room.

“Why do you need your keys?” she questioned but he didn’t answer. He was too busy trying to find them so he could get to the airport. Finally, she stood from where she was sat and approached the distraught twenty-year-old, hand reaching out to grab his arm, “Hey, take a deep breath and tell us what’s going on.”

Shawn shook his head, a frown permanently etched onto his lips, “I can’t take a breath. I need to get to the airport and get back to Toronto.”

“Has something happened?” she tried to get him to look at her but he couldn’t because he knew if he looked at Teddy he would start to cry and he couldn’t waste any time with his stupid tears.

“Yes,” he turned yelling towards her, startling her and the rest of the people in the room, “You see the girl who could potentially be the love of my life is a pain in the ass. She’s about to go into surgery to cut out the cancer she didn’t even tell me was back. So, yes, something has happened Teddy because her surgery is in two hours and she could die and I need to get home.”

Teddy went silent, the new information obviously stunning her. Shawn had talked about Y/N to his crew plenty of times over the years and as soon as he came back from his trip home, he completely burst with news of seeing her again. He had gone on and on about her the night he flew into LA and everyone could see that he had gotten a little crush but now proved to be a lot more. They never knew of her having cancer because he didn’t tell them. 

She said that she was healthy and that the cancer was gone so it didn’t seem relevant to mention but now it wasn’t gone. It was there, inside her beautiful body, spreading, trying to take up every part of her precious being, hoping that it would kill her altogether.

Sighing, Shawn’s hand ran through his curls, tugging slightly at the ends, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled but I just need to go and get to her. Can someone please text Andrew and tell him what’s going on and that I’ll call him later?”

Teddy nodded, hand reaching out to pluck the car keys that were hidden under some sheet music, “Don’t worry about anything, okay. We’ll take care of it. Just focus on getting to her.”

He smiled, grateful for his great friend and producer, taking the keys and bolting for the door with only a small backpack on his back. It had his money and a few pairs of extra clothes in case he accidentally ended up falling asleep at the studio like had done many times before. He was lucky to have it because even if it wasn’t, there was no way he would’ve gone home to pack a bag of clothes. Shawn had only one thing on his mind now, career, music, life put aside. His only priority was getting home, to her.

+

her

You were becoming restless, sat in that damn bed. Sending Karen and Manny down to the cafeteria with your parents. James was supposed to be with Aaliyah outside, who still seemed hesitant coming in the room. For some reason though, Aaliyah was stood alone outside of the room, biting on her nails, eyes frantically moving around the busy floor. James wasn’t anywhere to be seen and you knew that this was your chance to talk to her finally. Patty was stood at your side doing the initial checkup every twenty minutes just to make sure you were doing alright. She was dressed in her usual blue scrubs, but today her hair was braided back into a bun. She was checking your vitals though you were stable and felt fine.

“Okay, everything is looking good,” she concluded, putting her pen back into the ring of your chart that was in her hands.

“Just like I was twenty minutes ago,” you chuckled.

Patty raised her eyebrows at your sass but smiled nonetheless, “Hey, it’s just protocol from Dr. Myers. You are a very special patient and he wants everything in order before the surgery.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you rolled your eyes, now actually getting slightly irritated with all of the talk about your surgery, “Anyways, do you think you could get Aaliyah for me. She’s just sat out there alone and I have a few things to say to her.”

Patty nodded and smiled, “Alright, and remember I’ll be back-”

“For another checkup in twenty minutes, I know,” you laughed, watching as she backed out of the room and turned towards the young teenager that was trying to hide her nerves.

Patty had said something to her before she disappeared in the opposite direction of your room and hesitantly, Aaliyah stood up from the chair, she was sat in outside the room, and turned the corner. She took small steps entering into the white room that was shining from the sunlight that was emitting from the window. The door closed behind her and with some sort of courage, she managed to cross the room and take a seat in the chair next to your bed.

“Hi,” you smiled.

Her eyes met yours, “Hi.”

“How are you holding up?” you asked, watching her twirl a piece of hair around her finger. She shrugged and that was all the answer you needed. “Where’s James?”

“Said he had to make a work call,” she mumbled back.

“And you didn’t think you could come in?”

She shrugged again, “That nurse was in here so I just thought that I shouldn’t.”

“She was just doing a checkup,” you explained, fingers pulling at a loose thread from the blanket thrown over you. “I’m doing okay.”

“Clearly not,” Aaliyah argued, expression becoming angry as tears welled into her sweet brown eyes, “You said that you were fine and that the cancer was gone but it’s not. You’re sat in a hospital bed about to have surgery. You’re not okay and I’m not ready to say goodbye yet.”

You felt your heart drop, clearly, you weren’t the only one who had doubts about you pulling through this surgery. Hand reaching out, it grabbed hers. “You don’t have to say goodbye. Not now, not ever, okay. I promise that I am going to be fine.”

Wiping at her tears, her head fell onto your arm on the bed, soft sobs raking her body. A single tear had escaped your eye and you quickly pushed it away as Aaliyah lifted her head, a question flooding from her mouth, hitting you where it hurts. “Why didn’t you tell Shawn? Why don’t you want him here?”

“Because I’m a stupid girl who is afraid to tell him that I’m in love with him,” you admitted, hand pushing her hair behind her ear.

Her eyes widened slightly, “You love him?”

You nodded, “I do.”

“I thought that was something you were just saying at lunch to console my parents,” she said, hand interlacing with yours, fingers fiddling with the band around your wrist.

“No, it wasn’t. It’s the truth. He might end up being the love of my life,” you smiled, hand reaching up to unclip the necklace around your neck that had been given out of love by the person you were going to miss the most, “Do you think you could do something for me?”

Aaliyah nodded, eyes trained on the necklace dangling in your hand. You dropped it in her palm and she stared at it, tears starting to dry on her cheeks. Her fingers traced over the continents before she turned it over to the date on the back. “Could you hold onto that for me during surgery? It means a lot to me and I want in the hands of someone who can keep it safe."

“It’s safe with me,” Aaliyah whispered, her hand clamping around the necklace.

“Thank you,” you said, hand stroking her cheek as you felt your eyes start to close, the exhaustion obviously taking a toll on you.

The last thing you could hear was the sound of Aaliyah’s voice whispering with her hand holding yours. “I love you, Y/N and there’s no one who would be a better big sister to me than you.”

+

You had fallen asleep and when you woke up, Aaliyah was gone from your side. Everyone was stood outside the room with Dr. Myers and a group of medical staff. Upon noticing your eyes, Dr. Myers made his way into the room while everyone else crowded around the doorway. He stood at the side of the bed, hand reaching over to push your hair back from your forehead. “Hey, kid, how you feeling?”

“Tired,” you admitted voice croaky, “How long was I out?”

“A while,” he replied, thumb running along the side of your head, a comforting smile on his face and as you glanced from him to your family and Demi. IN an instant you knew.

“It’s time isn’t it?” you asked.

He nodded, “Yes, it is. We need to start prepping you now.”

Biting onto your lip, you looked back towards your family, “Can I just have a few more minutes?”

“Of course.”

With that, he left and the small staff followed him. You took a deep breath, as your gaze moved to your family and Demi who seemed cautious and hesitant. Wanting a moment with your parents, James, and Demi alone was important in these last few waking moments. It was time to say goodbye in case you didn’t wake up again to say hello. With that, you asked to see your parents first and James and Demi waited patiently outside of the door in each other’s embrace. Demi’s head resting on James’s chest as his arms were wrapped around her torso. Your parents stood at your side, hands gripping your arm gently while your father’s arm was wrapped around your mother.

“Bug, you’re going to do great, okay? Don’t you worry,” your dad cooed.

“We both know, I’m not the one who’s worried, dad,” you replied, watching that mask he had put on to get through this fade.

“I know, you’re not, but we are,” he admitted.

A smile lifted at your lips and even at a time like this it was so genuine and your parents had never been so happy to have raised a heartwarming kind woman, “I just wanted to say that I love you guys so much. You really are the best parents anyone could ever have and I am blessed to have you in my life.”

“No, honey, we are blessed,” your mother said voice breaking, “We were given the best daughter.”

“We are so proud of you, bug,” you dad mumbled, snot falling from his nose as he wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand, “And we will see you after the surgery.”

“Yeah,” you agreed though there was no way of being sure, “I’ll see you.”

With that, your father leaned down and placed a longing kiss to your forehead taking in the smell of his daughter’s sweet scent he had been around since the day she was born. Your mother followed and with one more smile sent their way, they walked out of the room. 

James approached you slowly, eyes bloodshot and shirt wrinkled, short hair a mess on his head. He was a mess. You smiled towards him, reaching your hand out for him to take and he did. Towering over you, he gave you a tight squeeze that reminded you of all the times as a kid while in church, during one specific part when you had to hold hands with the people next to you. James would always squeeze your hand as hard as he could and you’d do it back, usually ending with you hissing in pain and hitting him in the shoulder.

“I’m so scared,” he whispered honestly, barely able to talk.

“I know,” you replied, squeezing his hand just as hard back.

“Are you?” he paused, swallowing the saliva in the back of his throat, “Are you scared?”

“I was, but I’m not anymore.”

He was sobbing, something that wasn’t common with your brother and something he had gotten from your dad. “What can I do? Is there anything that I can do?”

You squeezed his hand three times. 1. 2. 3.  “You know there isn’t.”

“There has to be because I’m your older brother. I’m supposed to keep you safe.”

You nodded, smiling up at the one person you had grown up next to, not having a doubt in the world that there was anyone else who was more fitted to be your brother than James. “I know that you are, but we both know you can’t from this. There is only one thing you can do.”

His eyes were locked onto yours, though you appeared slightly blurry from his tears. His palm squeezing your cold one, he knew that he had made the right decision in calling Shawn. Everyone needed to be together at this time and if you loved him as much as you claimed too, this man should be there above anyone else.

“I need you to take care of mom and dad,” you continued,  watching as James shook his head because this was the exact thing he didn’t want to hear. “Just in case. I need you to promise that you’ll be there for them for everything. They have taken care of us all our lives and they might need you now to take care of them. Oh, and don’t let them dress me in a black dress at my funeral or play any of that sad shit, okay? I want to be dressed in pure white and have Bob Marley’s Don’t Worry playing over my casket.”

This caused him to chuckle, a sad chuckle but it was still a laugh. He nodded clearly not able to say anything as you swung his hand back and forth on the bed not done with your small goodbye speech. “I also want you to look out for Aaliyah, she seems the most scared about all of this and I need her in your safe arms when she needs it. And above all else, take care of my best friends. Shawn will probably deal with this the hardest and he will need you as a friend to help him get back on top. He’s just a guy who holds so much love in his heart and this might break him a little and you’re the one person I know will get through to him. And Demi, god Demi, you better treat her right, mister, or I’m going to come back and haunt you.”

James nodded again as you mustered the largest smile you could, “I love you, big brother.”

He squeezed your hand as he whispered one last thing to you, “I love you too.”

He sent you one last look over his shoulder as he left the room. The door only fell shut for a mere second, before Demi threw it open and ran in. She had seen your parents and James and the tears that were down all of their faces. Somehow she was convinced to not let you do the same to her. She ran over to you, hands cupping around your face causing your eyes to widen in shock. Her nostrils were flaring and her bottom lip was quivering but she was managing to keep it together.

She took a deep breath before she opened her mouth to speak, “Please, whatever you do, don’t die!”

You smiled and a small laugh fell from your lips, “I won’t because then who is going to be the one to sit around and listen to you rant about my brother.”

“Y/N, please, if there is some sort of white light run into the opposite fucking direction,” she begged, stroking your cheeks with the pads of her thumbs.

You rolled your eyes playfully at her words but you were drawn back to the sigh that sounded from her as she continued, “You and I are not finished, do you hear me? We haven’t made it to college graduation or even traveled the world yet. I need you as my maid of honor when I get married and more than anything I need you at my side with my first baby. I need to be able to call you when my husband is being ridiculous so we can go out and drink all of our happy life problems away because our lives will be so great that we won’t have any real problems to worry about. It’s supposed to be me and you. Don’t you see, I need you. You and I are not finished.”

Your eyes are glazed over and as you are about to respond the door opens and Dr. Myers flashes an apologetic smile, “Y/N, I’m afraid that it’s time to go.”

You nodded, looking back up towards Demi, your heart filled with love and happiness. Removing her hands from around your face, you held them as nurses and doctors began to unlock the wheels on the bed, and unhook the wires that were connected to your body. “You and I will never be finished. Whatever happens, I’m always going to be there for you.”

Tears flooded her vision, as you dropped her hands and the medical staff began to move you. They wheeled you out and into the hallway where your family was and behind them; Loretta, Demetrius, Karen, Manny, and Aaliyah stood. Demi walked behind the bed and as you gave each person one last wave or a shake of your hand, you were wheeled away with their words of encouragement following. 

You became silent, gaze locked onto the ceiling as you were rolled down the hall, hands bunched into the blanket at your sides. That panic, that distraught, burning feeling from drowning wasn’t there. Those feelings from that dream had swallowed you and your fears so many times in the past, but now all you felt was complete and utter peace as you were moving towards what could be the final destination. 

Dr. Myers and Patty were on each side of you. They were dressed for surgery, in their scrubs and scrub caps. Patty’s was just a pink color while Dr. Myers had large planes and white fluffy clouds. It was the only one you had ever seen him wear. You chuckled out loud, causing the man to look down at you. “I see you still have the same old scrub cap.”

“It’s my lucky scrub cap,” he said with a smile, glad to see you were calmer about the whole thing than how everyone else appeared to be.

Closing your eyes, you sighed, your smile becoming softer as your body felt like it was sinking deeper and deeper into the bed’s thin mattress. “Dr. M, I don’t believe in lucky scrub caps so the only thing I can say right now, is please don’t let me die.”

+

him

It had been two hours. He wasn’t even halfway there yet. The whole time he could only stare out the window at the sky, his mind too jumbled to focus on anything else. He wasn’t going to make it before the surgery, in fact, he knew she was probably going in right now. His chest ached, and his leg couldn’t stop bouncing up and down, obviously annoying the person sat next to him. The fear of never seeing her again made him feel sick and he had been lucky enough to get to the airport right as a flight was loading, though the only remaining seats were in coach, he didn’t care. Shawn didn’t care that he was stuck next to an older man who snored, or that he almost got mauled by fans who recognized him at the airport. He didn’t care that he was supposed to still be in the studio or had a meeting call later. None of it mattered, not right now.

Phone vibrating in his lap, Shawn had ignored the other messages he had gotten from his family, friends, or work members because he was just too worried about the girl he had given his whole and entire heart to think that finally, everything had worked out. Turned out the world was fucked up and unfair. There was a pulling at his guts, telling him to look at the message though, so he did. He picked up the phone and felt his heart stop and mouth open in shock. There at the top of all the notifications and messages was her name. Y/N had sent him a video, it looked like.

He struggled to plug in his headphones because his hands were shaking so much. Once they were in, he stared down at the screen for a minute, not knowing what to think, before he opened the message and clicked on the play button of the video. It opened and there on the screen was footage of Y/N tucked into a hospital bed with her long shiny hair wrapped up in blankets.It was from years ago. Her face was rounder and her skin much paler. A pair of headphones were on her chest and her father’s voice could be heard as he started to talk. “Hey, bug, you okay?”

The teenage girl shook her head, not bothering to look at the camera. “Shawn’s first album was released today and he’s becoming everything I knew he could be.”

“And you miss him?” Bradley asked to which Y/N nodded.

“I miss him more than anything, dad. We’ve never been away from each other for this long before.” 

“Do you think maybe you want to tell him? About the cancer?” her dad questioned. 

She became very still, thinking for a long time before answering, “No. I can’t do that to him. Things are finally taking off for him and I can’t give him any reason to give it all up and come back home.” 

The video went black for a second as those had been the exact same words she had screamed at him the night of her party. The night, he found out about the real reasons of why the last four years had been how they were. She cared so much about him and was selfish at the same time. She had would his career and his dreams above of own wants and needs and though she may have handled the situation wrong, he still appreciated it all. 

Suddenly, music started to play, traveling into Shawn’s ears, the lyrics making his heart speed up in his head. 

Honey, I thought you should know. That I’m in a hurry. I’ve got to move up north. But it’s just temporary.

From there the video flashed quickly back and forth of pictures and videos of Y/N and Shawn as kids leading up to the years before he left Pickering. The lyrics piercing his heart with each word. Was she trying to say goodbye? Because this was not the way to do it, he thought eyes glistening with fresh tears.

When I look at you I see your beauty. Now my baby boy he’s going to lose me. But heaven’s not too far away.

And like a bunch of bricks to his chest, as the music started to get louder like it was about to hit the chorus, a picture of Y/N moved onto the screen. She was bald and smiling, looking just like he imagined her to look with no hair, absolutely beautiful. The pictures and videos continued of her. In the hospital, getting chemo, making jokes with her doctor, singing along to one of his songs.

It went on until one last video appeared. Y/N was sat in a wheelchair, a bunch of members of the hospital surrounding her as she was dressed in a black long sleeve shirt and a pair of jeans. Confetti burst around her and a banner appeared with bright pink letters congratulating her on being cancer free. She was smiling so big, that dimples appeared on the sides of her lips, and her cheeks were dusted this soft rosy shade. Then she stood up like the strong woman she was and with hugs going around, walked out of the hospital. She probably expected it to be the last time but had gotten thrown one more curve ball.

No honey, I don’t want you to go. Please know that I have to. Look how the cancer has grown. I think it’s time to go home.

He was crying. Shawn could feel the tears staining his cheeks as the pictures and videos changed again. This time being all from the last few weeks. The weeks he had spent with her; fixing their friendship, healing their hearts, and falling in love. The first one being from the hockey game when he had convinced her to take a selfie. Both smiling and dressed in Maple Leaf clothes, Shawn’s arm was slung across her shoulders and she had leaned into his side for the picture. They both were smiling brightly despite the awkward tension between them at the time. 

Then came a few videos from game nights they had with the family or crazy dinners. There’s was videos of them just acting like complete idiots together, resembling exactly how they used to act as kids. Nothing had changed between them that much besides the feelings that had been recognized as wanting to be more than just friends.

Yes, I can still hear your voice. Sounds just like it did. And I can still feel your hand when it touches my skin.

Then they moved into Y/N’s birthday. There were so many. A picture of them leaning into each other at the table during the game of Bullshit to them laughing over dinner. There were videos that Aaliyah had sneakily recorded of Shawn fiddling with Y/N’s fingers in his lap, eyes locked onto her smiling face. To finally pictures of them dancing in her yard. They were pressed so closely and it looked so intimate like they really were a couple, though at the time there had been no label put on them. There were videos of him twirling her, talking to her with a smile on his lips showing just how happy she had made him. As the small video ended with her head falling onto his chest as they danced, the video went black again for a single frame.

But Heaven’s not too far away. I know someday you’ll visit.

Shawn could hear his own laughter through the headphones and a sad smile formed on his lips as the video appeared on the screen. This was in Y/N’s apartment one night after he had stayed over in the last few days they were together. She was tangled on top of him, her phone out, as they were on the floor after Shawn had caused them to fall off. Laughter was flooding through the both of them as she recorded it and it ended with him leaning up and placing a sweet kiss to her lips.

Honey, I thought you should know. That I’m in a hurry.

The music’s volume lowers, fading along the background, as sounds like someone was trying to adjust a camera was being made and then after a few seconds, a light appeared and on the screen there she was. Y/N was dressed in that navy blue shirt that belonged to Shawn and the morning sun was illuminating her face, those freckles noticeable on her nose. She was sat on the small step in the living room, the back of Shawn’s kitchen in view, probably being filmed on her phone. Hugging her knees to her chest, his shirt covered her frame as a small smile graced her precious lips. By it all, he could tell that this was from yesterday. This was the same day he had his flight and not a doubt was in his mind that this was after he left.

She was biting hard onto her bottom lip as her eyes looked into the camera. “Oh. my god, I can’t believe I am doing this.” 

She mumbled for a few seconds, trying to get the courage to speak, before finally she took in a deep breath, “Shawn, let’s face I am a stupid stupid girl. No, actually, I’m a coward. I just let you walk out of that door without telling you how completely in love with you I am.”

Shawn’s heart stopped and then skipped a beat all together as his hands held onto his phone so tightly, his knuckles were turning white. She loved him. She finally said it out loud and all he wanted was for her to keep saying it over and over again until he felt like it was true.

“I love you. I love you,” she continued on his screen, her voice going soft as her fingers ran through her short hair, “It’s not fair, I know and I am so sorry but it doesn’t matter because at the end of the day, I love you and you love me and that’s what matters. Shawn, you are one of the best people in my life. Ever since I knew what it was like to get romantic feelings for a boy, I think that’s when my heart started to beat faster around you and that fluttering started to come alive in my stomach. So, I was that girl who had a little crush on her best friend and the family friend. I was also too stubborn to say anything, so I didn’t for years. But by the time we got to high school, I couldn’t take it anymore. You were this cute, kind-hearted, talented boy who had made his way into my mind and never left. There were so many times when I wanted to say something but then you started dating Lauren and then you weren’t and then you had to leave Pickering and the timing just never seemed right for us.”

“Since then, I’ve never really tried to love anyone else because even though I was sick and you were traveling across the world, that sixteen-year-old boy who shot covers in his room had never left my mind. And I promised myself, I would wait for him to come home but then you did and I got scared. So I guess I was as much of a coward then as I am now. But in the end, I got you. I got you, Shawn. I have you, and I have never been as happy as when I’m with you. I love you and I know that we have no idea what’s going to happen. It’s scary and terrifying. It’s the oblivion. I know this will feel impossible at times, but I know that you’ll be okay and if all else fails just know that I’m not too far away. That heaven will never be too far away.”

I’ve gotta move up north. But it’s just temporary.

Just like that, it was over. The time ticked out and the screen went black and Shawn had never felt so empty in his whole entire life. It was a declaration of her feelings and somewhat of an explanation but it felt like a shitty one at that. He knew he deserved more than that. A video sent to him. He needed to hear those words out loud face to face and above all he needed that chance. Things couldn’t end this way, the universe couldn’t be that cruel. He couldn’t let go, not now, not ever. It felt unreal to him. Like his once fluffy cloud had gone grey and a storm had started to stir. It felt so wrong, that he put himself through the pain of clicking play on the video again.

+

her

There you were, lying on that cold table. Drapes were over your body and a tube was down your throat and your abdomen was bare and exposed. Unconscious, with a bunch of doctors surrounding you and Patty, sat at your head petting your hair down, eyes not able to look away from your sleeping form. Beeping sounded throughout the whole room, from the machines you were hooked up to that was keeping track of your heart rate and other stats.

Along with that, there were IV’s coming out of your arms and bags of blood near if needed. A surgical cap was pulled over your head and there were lights shining over your body for all of the doctors to see. Trays of surgical instruments lined back and forth and behind that on the wall were your latest scans of where the Mets were. The doctors were dressed in OR gowns over their scrubs, white thick gloves on their hands, and face masks over the bottom half of their faces.

Dr. Myers stood to the right side of you, in his lucky scrub cap, headlamp on his head, and clean scrubbed hands raised as he glanced from the different surgeons that filled the room. Some new, and just starting out, as young adults not knowing who you were or your case, and then there were others who had been there through the whole thing. An important case is what Dr. Myers labeled you and had only requested the best for this procedure. Taking a deep breath, his eyes found your face for a split second before looking back at his staff.

“This girl on this table just turned twenty last week and the only thing she asked of me was to not let her die. She has been on my table a handful of times and had gone through chemo and radiation for three years, so the only thing I ask of you tonight is to help me save her life. It’s a nice night for it, let’s do this.”

With that, he stuck his right hand out, palm up, authority present on his face as he looked towards the scrub nurse, “Scalpel.”

+

him

It was nine o’clock when Shawn landed and nine thirty when he got to the hospital. It was raining. Pouring, actually, and as he parked his car into the closest parking spot he could find, he bolted from the car not caring that he didn’t have an umbrella. He was soaked immediately. Curls wet against his forehead, he sprinted to the front doors and as he approached they opened automatically for him. 

Water was dripping from his body as the front lobby came into his view. It was large and filled with blue navy cushioned metal chairs. For those who were waiting, waiting for the answers about their loved ones, waiting for hope to fall onto their shoulders to make it seem like everything hadn’t gone to shit. Shawn in the back of his mind prayed that by the end of the night he wouldn’t be one of those people.

He was jogging, slipping across the white tiled floor, head turning frantically back and forth looking for someone or anyone that could help him or show him where to go and then his eyes found it. The place he was supposed to go, he stopped in his tracks, eyes locked onto the only people who sat in those hard chairs. It was his family, your family, Demi, and then Loretta and Demetrius. They were sat by one another, bent over, like they were praying. 

Manny sat on the end and two chairs over was Karen. Sandwiched in between them was Aaliyah, who had her fingers interlaced gripping them so tightly. Manny’s arm was around his daughter while Karen seemed busy rubbing Katherine’s back who was next to her. Kleenexes were pressed into the lady’s palms and though she always looked lovely and put together, now she just seemed completely out of it. 

Bradley sat next to his wife, hand clasped around her knee as he stared at the ceiling, eyes not able to sit still. In the next two chairs were James and Demi. Demi had her face pressed into James' neck as her hands gripped his shirt tightly like he was the only thing keeping her upright. James’ head leaned against her’s, eyes fluttering open and close like he was about to fall asleep. 

Then there at the very end was Loretta and Demetrius. Loretta was tapping her fingers against her thigh as she counted the dots on her shit while Demetrius looked at the book that was held in his hand. He wasn’t reading it but just holding it. Shawn knew which book it was from where he stood because besides it being Y/N’s favorite book it was also his.

Walking over there, to not startle them, every single pair of eyes lifted to his wet frame. His eyes were cloudy as his lips were drawn to a frown and the sound of the water slipping down on his body echoed in the air as it slapped against the floor. He knew she was in surgery, he knew hours ago, but that didn’t stop his mouth from opening and asking the question, voice breaking all together, “Where is she?”

Manny’s arm unwrapped from around Aaliyah and he stood at the view of his son in front of him. He approached Shawn, sadness on his face, as he tried to comfort the broken boy but he couldn’t find the words to say anything besides, “Shawn.”

“Where is she?” he raised his voice, though he knew there was no reason for it but he had a bad feeling about being there and he needed to see her. He needed to say that he loved her. “I need to see her.”

Manny tried to take Shawn’s arm in his hand, but the singer just shrugged him off. Those broken amber eyes looked around at everyone else who couldn’t find the words either. How were you supposed to tell someone that the love of their life was in surgery and could die at any minute? You couldn’t, you needed to think of better things because if you thought of the worst, the easier it would convince you that it was true.

“I have to see her,” Shawn cried, body exhausted from the flight, from running, from crying. He was about as out of it as anyone else, if not more. “Please, I need to see her. She can’t die.”

+

her

Dr. Myers movements had gone still. His light was shining into your body cavity and silence had washed over the room as they waited for him to say something, anything, or have his movements start again. Finally, Patty was the one who had been the one to call him out on the scared shitless look that appeared on his face.

“What is it?” she asked, hand pressed to your forehead, worryingly.

Dr. Myers looked up, gaze towards her and his face dropped even more, “The Mets have spread since her last visit. It’s starting to move up past her pelvis and towards the abdomen.”

It was like a pin dropped at the news, the kind that no one wanted to hear. Patty closed her eyes as a shaky breath passed her lips. “Are you going to close her up?”

He shook his head as he picked up the ten blade again and started to make small little cuts, “No.”

“That means you’re going to have to cut out more tissue to get it all. Is that really what we should do?!” Patty questioned no longer calm.

“Well, what do you want me to do? Close her up and send her back to the chemo chair? She barely survived chemo last time, I’m not putting her back there,” he stated, pausing to give a hard stare towards Patty. Tension was thick in the air, but he ignored the stares from the other staff and turned back to the task at hand.

“Clamp!” he demanded.

+

him

“You know that you can’t,” Manny tried this time, able to talk as his hand gripped onto his son’s shoulder, “She’s in the middle of an invasive procedure.”

Shawn’s hand came up to grip his dad’s forearm like he was about to fall over. “Dad, she can’t die without me telling her.”

“Bud, she knows that you love her,” Manny mumbled as everyone else watched in tears.

“No!” he yelled, “I need to tell her.”

At this point, tears were falling from Shawn’s eyes, mixing with the rain that was still stuck to his skin. He was sobbing, pleading in front of more people then he would ever allow but that’s how horrible this felt. It was like his heart was being torn from his chest and he didn’t care to show his weakness to the world because he felt too exhausted and too upset. Karen stood from her spot next to Katherine and tried to gather her son in her arms but he pushed her away too.

“Shawn, we know this seems impossible but she is going to be okay,” Karen said, tears of her own appearing, “Please just sit down. They should be done soon.”

He shook his head, hands coming up to tug on his curls. How could she do this to him? Make him fall in love with her and not warn him about the heartbreak ahead of time. This wasn’t supposed to happen. She was finally his and he was her’s. It was supposed to be like that for a long time and it seemed, he was losing her not even a week after he confessed his feelings.

+

her

“Damn it!” Dr. Myers voice cursed through the room.

Patty’s eyes widened as she looked up at him. “What now?”

“She’s losing too much blood. I need you to start hanging more bags right away and I need to cauterize this bleeder and get it under control before it gets worse,” the scrub nurse and surgeons that had been assisting began to hang the bags of blood.

Dr. Myers began to pack as much gauze as he could into your body trying to stop the bleeding that formed as someone was preparing the cautery instrument to cauterize. That’s when the beeping cut through the air sharply. It was rapid and loud sending everyone in a frenzy.

“Her pressure’s dropping!”

+

him

“Shawn, please,” Karen begged.

He was shaking, sobs raking through his body. At this point, Manny had his arms wrapped around his son trying to keep him back from trying to run. Shawn, on the other hand, was using everything he had left him to get free from his father’s grip. He had to get to her. 

At this point Bradley and James were stood too, saying things towards Shawn but it was no use, it was going in one ear and out the other. Katherine soon was on her feet, hands holding Shawn’s face trying to talk him down but it was like though his eyes were looking at her he couldn’t see her. He was having an anxiety attack, they all knew it. It was the worst they had ever seen. Starting to hyperventilate, his legs were like jello and his throat was raw from screaming.

Nurses had started to appear, being able to hear his yells from down the halls. They had jogged over and tried to remove Manny’s arms from around Shawn, but he was too scared to let go. It all became too much and the younger Mendes found herself jumping from her seat to get to her brother. She pushed Katherine aside and looked into her brother’s broken eyes. Ripping the necklace from her pocket, she shoved it into his hand. Shawn’s head fell, eyes locking onto the golden chain. He turned it over with his fingers before he looked back up towards his little sister.

“She asked me to hold onto it for her but I think she wanted me to give it to you,” Aaliyah whispered, stroking her brother’s damp skin, “Shawn, she loves you. She loves you. She loves you.”

+

her

That rapid beeping stopped and instead it became continuous meaning only one thing. Dr. Myers’s head snapped into the direction of the heart monitor. There wasn’t a line that was spiking with each beat that resounded around your chest. In fact, there was nothing. Both HR, for heart rate, and BP, for blood pressure, were flat.  A question mark showed in the right corner under where it said the patient’s name and had Y/N Y/L/N flashing across the screen. A red alert was signaling.

“I’m starting chest compressions,” Dr. Myers called out, ripping the headlamp from his head and dropping it to the floor. 

He slid across the floor up towards your chest and as his eyes glanced at the girl behind the drapes, he felt his blood run cold. Folding his hands together into a fist, he began pushing up and down in the middle of your chest, counting in his head with each movement. Your whole body jerked as your chest was pushed down and then proceeded back to its original place. Chin tucking down to hit your neck, Patty was crying at the girl laying in front of her. “Get a crash cart!”

Patty leaped from her chair above your head and sprinted to the corner of the room, pushing the cart from where it sat. She wheeled it over towards the side of the OR table. Dr. Myers ripped the paddles from the cart as the other lead surgeon on the case continued with the chest compressions. “Charge to 300.”

Quickly preparing the paddles in his hands, Dr. Myers stared wide eyed and terrified at the patient on the table. A buzzing noise came from the machine as he rubbed the two paddles together then hovered them both over your chest. “Clear.”

Patty pushed the button and the volts of electricity shot into your body. Everyone’s eyes locked onto the monitor as the line changed. The rhythm shot up and fell down in a zigzag motion as the question marks turned to numbers. The numbers increased, heart rate coming to 30 and BP to 40/24 but within seconds both had fallen back to zero. The question marks appearing on the screen again.

“Charge again,” Dr. Myers yelled refusing to move the paddles from your chest, “Clear.”

+

him

The sound of Aaliyah’s voice began to fade and Shawn felt all strength in his legs give out. He collapsed into his father’s arms and gently Manny lowered his twenty-year-old son onto the ground. 

A puddle of water had formed around him and he squeezed his eyes shut, sobs still falling from his mouth. The necklace wrapped tightly in his palm as he tried to control his breathing. His chest was rising and falling rapidly and everything just seemed wrong. Bringing his knees to his chest, Shawn wrapped his arms around his legs. His head fell against his legs, able to smell the spring rain that stuck to his clothes. 

Sobs becoming whimpers, nailings digging into his legs. He was losing it. There was nothing left in him, yet the tears continued. His damp curls were in his eyes and his head felt like it was going to burst. Was this what it felt like to die? Or was he just going to pass out? Maybe that’s how bad the pain was.

His eyes were closed and he shut out everything else behind him. The voices faded like white noise, and the feeling of others touching him went numb. All he could hear was her laughter, all he could smell was her coconut shampoo, and all he could see was her. Splayed across his bed, in his shirt, morning light in her face as she smiled and laughed, hands intertwined with his. All he could feel was her; her lips, her hands, her body. Only her. This was it. This was how it all fell apart, straight into his lap.

+

her

Did you say it?

“Come on, Y/N,” Dr. Myers whispered, paddles still pressed against your skin, as his eyes scanned for that rhythm. That one rhythm. “Charge again. Clear.”

I love you.

The numbers rose and fell again. Nothing. “Come on, don’t die on me! Charge to 400. Clear.”

Did you say it before it was too late? Before it was gone?

“We’re losing her!” Patty declared.

I love you

“Charge to 400 again. Clear!”

Did you? Or did you let it hold you back? The fear of admitting that you’ve fallen. Scared to commit to another person. Scared that love would hurt you. Fail you. Break you.

“Y/N Y/L/N, you are not going to slip away, you hear me! You told me to not let you go and there is no way that I’m going to but I can’t do this on my own.”

You should’ve said it. I love you because what it comes down to is at the end of the day…

“Damn it! Again!”

… wouldn’t you rather risk all of that… 

“V-fib! Clear!”

… than to never love at all?

next part

[lukesvangelista]

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄’𝐒 𝐀 𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄

in which john b is in love with you, but he doesn’t realize just how much he needs you until he can’t have you.

pairing; john b x reader

requested; no

tw; mentions of cancer (osteosarcoma) and death

John B was lying in bed at the château, his mind racing with thoughts. JJ was passed out on the couch, but he was having trouble falling asleep. He had an uneasy feeling in his stomach, and he felt as though if he fell asleep, he would miss something extremely important.

He turned to his side, his hand resting below his head but on top of his pillow. John B closed his hazel-brown eyes, attempting to fall asleep, but his mind wouldn’t let him. But his eyes stayed shut and his thought finally calmed, so he was getting there.

30 minutes later, just as the boy was about to fall asleep, his phone began ringing. He shot up and reached for his phone on the night stand to his left. When he picked it up, he saw your contact name. You and John B had been best friends since kindergarten, long before he had met JJ. You and JJ had gotten along, but you both had different interests, especially when Pope and Kiara joined their group, so John B had split his time equally between hanging out with them and hanging out with you. You had met Pope and Kie a couple of times, and they seemed super nice, you just didn’t have enough common interests, so you never really hung out with anyone but John B.

John B grew worried immediately. You guys had talked at night when you couldn’t fall asleep, but never at this time. It was nearly 3:00 AM, and if you couldn’t fall asleep he knew you would’ve called earlier. He slowly picked it up, his hands shaky, “Hello?”

It wasn’t you on the other line, though. It was your little sister, “John B, it’s time. You need to come over.” she sobbed through the phone, and his heart dropped, his eyes swelling with tears of his own.

“I... I’ll be right there.” he choked out before hanging up. John B shot up out of bed, and ran over to his dresser, opening the door and grabbing the first t-shirt he came across. He threw it on over his head and raced out of his room, grabbing his keys off the hook before racing over to JJ.

“JJ!” John B frantically shook him, which startled the boy awake, “We have...” but the brunette couldn’t finish his sentence.

JJ used his hands to scoot himself up on the couch, “John B, what is it?” he asked worriedly.

“I need... Y/N! Y/N, Y/N.” John B sobbed, throwing his keys to JJ. The blond boy knew what that meant, and he quickly put on his shoes and escorted John B out the door and to the van. JJ made sure that John B got in the back of the van safely before rushing over to the drivers seat and starting the van.

John B knew this was coming soon enough. When you had been diagnosed with Osteosarcoma at the beginning of freshman year, the prognosis was looking good. The cancer hadn’t spread anywhere from your femur. Later in the year, however, the cancer had spread to your lungs, and the long term survival rate dropped by a significant number. You had spent most nights in the hospital, going through rounds of radiation and chemotherapy, but John B was always there. He had been your best friend for 10 years. He wouldn’t leave you alone. The treatments weren’t working, however, and you grew progressively worse. After awhile in the hospital, you were moved to a bed in a spare room on the first floor of your house so that when what you guys were all dreading happened, you could be more comfortable.

But even though he knew this was coming, it didn’t make the pain hurt any less.

John B just stared blankly at his hands, “No. This isn’t real. Y/N is fine. She’ll be there to greet me with her bright smile, and I’ll know that everything’s okay.” he frantically repeated as he shook violently. He wrapped his arms around himself and pulled his knees into his chest, “No, she’s okay. If she wasn’t, she would tell me. Right, JJ? She would tell me, wouldn’t she?”

JJ barely heard John B and looked back to see him. He was so vulnerable. The fire in his eyes that was once lit seemed to be doused with more water with each passing second, “She’ll be alright, John B.” Of course, JJ didn’t mean that you were going to be okay when he went to say his goodbyes to you. He meant that you would be okay after you passed on. You wouldn’t be in pain anymore.

Deep down, John B knew that. But he was in denial right now. He couldn’t grasp that he was going to lose you. The concept of you leaving him alone slipped right through his fingers. He couldn’t process that, and plus, he’s only in denial if he’s wrong.

As JJ focused his eyes back on the road, John B checked his phone once more to see if anyone had texted him an update on you. Nothing was there, but the time caught his attention. It was 3:15, and he received the phone call from your little sister just 15 minutes earlier. To him though, it felt like a thousand years had passed from the time he dropped his phone after hearing your sister’s words to now.

John B could hear the raindrops splattering on the windows. It was sunny all of yesterday, and the rain had only started to fall about an hour earlier. He fiddled with the many bracelets on his right wrist, ultimately coming across one that you had made for him during one of your hospital stays. He offered it a half-hearted smile, bittersweet memories of the two of you coming back to him.

Suddenly, the van came to a stop. John B looked up to meet JJ’s eyes. JJ nodded. John B took a deep breath as he moved to exit the van. As soon as he got out, the rain came pouring down, but he didn’t care. His shoulders sagged as he walked towards the house where the two of you had shared an endless amount of memories together. As he reached the front door, he almost turned away. He didn’t want to go in, because what if you were about to let go? Then he would be wrong. But it was too late now, and just a second later, John B’s hands were repeatedly knocking on the painted wood of your front door.

It didn’t take long for someone to answer the door, “Hey, John B,” your little sister greeted, her face displaying how exhausted she was. John B felt so horrible for her. She was only thirteen. How was she supposed to function without you, her best friend? She opened the door further so he could step in, and he silently thanked her, walking in to find the living room empty. His heart dropped. It was all becoming too real.

“Sit down, John B. My mom and dad are talking to her right now. I’ll let them know you’re here.” your little sister spoke again, her voice cracking.

He nodded, sitting gently on the couch. His hair was dripping wet, and his greenish-gray t-shirt was soaked. He allowed his head to drop to his hands, attempting to wake himself up from a nightmare. Suddenly, the boy wished he had brought JJ in with him, instead of telling him to stay in the car.

“Thank you for coming, John B,” the voice of your mom made him snap his head up, “She’s in the guest room. Please, your time.” she explained, her voice tired and worn. He nodded, slowly getting up from his spot on the couch. He took in the expressions on everyone’s faces. They all looked so hopeless. As John B reached the door to the room, he shakily twisted the door knob, preparing himself to see you.

As he closed the door so it was just the two of you, he wanted to break right then and there. You were lying in a rented hospital bed. You were so pale, and fragile, and as much as John B wanted to admit it, lifeless. As he slowly moved closer to you, he could faintly see the slow rising and falling of your chest. He took a deep breath as his eyes began to water, pulling a chair towards your bed.

“Hey, Y/N,” he began, gripping onto one of your hands as a few tears slipped down his cheeks, “It’s me, JB. I, uh... I know you can’t hear me right now, but that’s okay. I-I came here tonight w-with the hope that you were going to be okay, b-but... seeing you here is making me wonder if you’re ever going to, uh... wake up.” John B sobbed out, placing his head down on your chest just to feel your weak heartbeat. “I guess it’s too late to say this now, but I’m going to say it anyway. I’m in love with you, Y/N. I’ve been in love with you since the fucking seventh grade! And seeing you here now... it’s making me realize just how much I need you. I... Y/N, please don’t leave me. You’re the best part of me, my better half! I need you, but you’ve been so strong for me by fighting to hold on tight for this long. I... I understand t-that... that you can’t carry all this pain on your shoulders anymore. If you have to go... if it hurts too much to hold on, then let go. I can’t handle seeing you in this much pain. You... you deserve nothing but the best, sweet girl, and if that means leaving this place, then do it. I’ll be okay. Maybe not right away, but I’ll find a way, alright? You always have a special place in my heart, Y/N. Don’t forget that. I love you, and I will continue to love you and live the rest of my life for you, okay? I promise you. I know that you’ll be with me and you’ll love me from wherever you are.” he choked out, finally breaking down completely.

He gripped onto you tightly, not daring to let go. John B left a number of friendly kisses on your cheek and forehead, anxiously waiting for the moment that you were going to leave him. It was like that for a long time, his head gently resting on your chest to make sure you were breathing. He felt at peace lying with you, and he hoped that you felt the same way. No pain, just peace. His hazel-brown eyes were closed, but he didn’t dare fall asleep. Suddenly, the beating of your heart stopped. John B shot up and frantically checked your pulse, but it was no use. You had given up.

“No!” he sobbed out, “No, no! Please Y/N, you can’t leave me!”

“John B,” a whisper broke the Routledge boy out of his thoughts, and his eyes opened widely. When he looked up, he expected to see your little sister or your mom, but he was met with your face.

“Y/N?” he whispered quietly, not believing that you were in front of him, and his tears slowed down, but they still slipped down his cheeks and onto his gray bandana.

“JB, it’s me,” you whispered as you gently gripped onto his hands, “I just came to tell you that I’m going to be okay. I know you feel broken right now, so I’m not going to tell you to have a wonderful rest of your life. Instead, I’m telling you to just hold on. The darkest days of grief will fade after awhile, and the sun will rise again for you, John B. It’s going to be okay. Goodbye, I love you.”

He blinked, and your body slowly began to fade. John B was left blinking like a maniac, beginning to panic again.

“Y/N,” he whispered frantically, desperately reaching out to hug you one last time.

“It’s okay,” you whispered, sadness filling your tone as you pulled away from your best friend, “Goodbye, JB.”

John B started hyperventilating, not wanting you to leave just set. He began to mumble a series of “no’s” again, but as your body became barely visible, he knew that this would be it. Defeated, John B desperately searched for the words to say to you before you left, “Goodbye, my love. Don’t forget me. I love you.”

And as your body completely disappeared, he heard your whisper fade into thin air, “I love you too.”

a/n; this was also unedited, but i’ll go back and fix any mistakes i made tomorrow! <3

tags; @jjmaybnks @jjtheangel @maybankiara @jjouterbanks @jjmaybank @downbytheouterbankss @downbytheouterbanks @drewstarkey @supremestarkey @thatsme-johnbookerroutledge @johnbroutledge @johnbsflowr @johnbstwinkie @kiespogues @heywards @jiaraforever

if you want to be added to any of my future taglists just let me know!

[thornstocutyouwith]

Name:  Lucian Zoltán Xurxo Edu Faust

Meaning of Name:  Lucian: Light, Zoltán: Life, Xurxo: Farmer, Edu: Wealthy Guard, Faust: Fortunate One

Nickname(s):  Luci, Freak, Cian,

Age: Unknown

Birthday: September 14, 1494/1990

Species/Nationality:  Hybrid between a Gold Dragon and an Elf, A Fantasy Realm called Aseara.

Accent: Yes

Language spoken: Elvish, Common, English,

Powers:

Dragon Physiology

Elf Physiology

Metal Dust Manipulation

Graphic Vision

Chemical Breath

Gamma Radiation Manipulation

Fire Breath

Ninjutsu

Dark Elemental Attacks

Weaknesses/Illness/Allergies: No

Pet: Spider Monkey named Sparrow

Occupation:  Strip Club Owner/Pirate Captain

Faceclaim:  Xavier Samuel

Description: His hair is short and black, with natural gold and blue flecks of hair/feather sticking out here and there. His iris are a blue purple color, and the rims are naturally blackened with the edges of the whites of his eyes tinted in a golden color that fades the when going in closer to his iris’. His fingernails are black. He has scars on his left shoulder , they are thick and puff out from his skin, and are an natural color from the rest of his skin. He is tan with scaled elbows and knee’s, the scales are black.  His ears are pointed, with black tips that fade into blue farther down. He has fangs, both on the bottom and the top of his mouth.

Outfit/Accessories/Jewelry: Swords, 

Height: 5′9″

Weight: 134

Body Build: Slender/Athletic

Backstory/Background:

Past

Lucian was born a long time ago, on a night of a full moon. In the middle of winter, to an elven mother.  She had been banished from the elven kingdom just after becoming pregnant with Lucian. Being viewed as a curse who would bring an abomination into their world. After her exile she had been hunted. Dragons and demons alike wanting her dead, or to capture her in order to obtain the child she was carrying.

After one such attack seventeen months after becoming pregnant, the elven woman finally went into labor. Though prematurely for her kind, as well as for the dragons, even more so. Being stalked into a cave, she collapsed and started to feel immense pain, her body lighting up in pain.  Before she could contain herself, she was found. She was captured and her head chopped off.  Still pregnant with Lucian at the time, her body was tossed into a nearby river.

The body floated for several days then, before washing up on a beach miles and miles away from the site of the elven woman’s execution. Several days after this, a pair of scavengers were walking along the beach, searching for items to sell at the local market. Spotting the body they run up to it, hoping there was something of value in it. Upon finding nothing,  one of the scavengers kicks the body in the stomach, hitting something solid.

Curious, they cut the body open, and fine an egg, not just any typical egg, but a golden colored egg. Taking the egg to the market, the pair easily sell this rare egg for riches that should of lasted them for months, possibly even years to come. Though they were probably going to end up spending it all on stupid things. The egg sat at the market for some time. For the most part, the shop owner didn’t even want to sell the egg.

Years passed, and the egg sat waiting, but for the longest time, no one came for it. And it from shop owner to shop owner, each one finding it hard to part with the strange egg, it was passed. Often times falling into the wrong hands, but it was never used for anything but decoration.

Present

Lucian currently owns one of the most popular strip clubs around. It has quickly become a mythical being hotspot for more than just it’s strippers. Lucian’s fame stretches from the mythical all the way into the human world. There are many stories about his origins floating around. But no one knows exactly where it was he came from, or how he got where he is now. Many of the beings who know of him have an innate fear of getting on his bad side. But Lucian has never given anyone a reason to think of him as an evil presence. Lucian cannot remember much as his memory erases every thirty years, due to a curse that was placed on him by another creature hundreds of years before now.

Each time his memory is erased, he starts over as if his previous life hadn’t happened. It has been ten years since the last time his memory erased itself. Lucian is unaware of the curse because of it’s nature. Those who have claimed to know him after his memory is erased often find this annoying and often don’t want to be his friend anymore because they think that he just is being an asshole. Lucian over all isn’t effected by it and continues to find success in his life, going down different paths every thirty years.

At some point he comes to fight a creature that could teleport. Soon they were both transported to the natural world, where seemingly no one has power or features the same as beings from Aseara. There he came across a young woman during the fight which had almost been killed by the teleporting creature. Lucian however protected her from the monsters attack but lost his chance to return home, back to Aseara in the process. Stranded now the Woman, who had been at first frightened of his appearance, since he had been in his dragon form, initially tried to flee. When he reverted back to his more humanoid form she had however changed her mind and decided to help him.

It took some time before they became comfortable with one another. The woman most of all. She had seemed often far too gentle. Lucian was not used to many like her. Along with being in a strange world he had certainly felt out of place. However the two grow closer, sometimes even being attracted to one another. Lucian had come to learn that the woman was the personification of what is known at the Astrological Sign of Cancer. Also learning that not all these Human’s are the same as they looked at times, in the process. That even in a world so seemingly devoid of differences there were the subtle ones.

At some point Lucian and the young woman part ways and eventually Lucian moves on to find a way back home to Aseara once more. Hearing about another being who had been lost from their world named Jax, who was working on a portal to cross dimensions.

Future

Lucian finds Jax and travels with the other trying to return home back to Aseara.

Sails a  ship called Eternity.

Finds out he’s a Dragon Prince

(Work In Progress)

Personality:

Absent-minded, Adrenaline Junkie, Audacious, Bad Liar, Clumsy, Gullible, Idealist, Idiotic, Ignorant, Naive, Reckless, Timid, Ungracious, Unlucky, Unsophisticated, Courteous, Multi-leveled, Incorruptible, Punctual, Gracious, Adaptable, Upright, Humble, Neutral, Solitary, Glamorous, Noncommittal, Irreligious, Cute, Determined, Intense, Abrasive, Escapist, Argumentative, Careless, Nihilistic, Insulting, Odd, Demanding,

Quirks/Savvies/Other: Plays the drums, Startles easily, Prone to stumbling, Smells things, Accidentally breaks things often, Nibbles on peoples necks and ears, Flicks at people, Easily distracted by baubles or treasures,

Likes: Food, Music, Magic, Cooking, Crafting, Leaves, Clean (Warm) Clothes, Mud, Rain, Riverbeds, Cinnamon, Grapes, Peaches, Banana’s, Water, Wine, The Moon, Tea, Chocolate with Rainbow Sprinkles, Chocolate, Summer, Nighttime, Carving pumpkins,

Dislikes: Puns, Vegetables, Taller people, Philosophy, Being inside, Gossip, Monsters, Scary Stories, Grapes, Bats,

Fears: None

Personality Tests:

Other: Virgo

Parent(s):

  -> Father: Unknown(Dragon)

  -> Mother: Unknown(Elf)

Sibling(s): None

Starters

Chat’s

Para’s

Face

Stuff

Information

Asks

All

                                                                              Alternate Universes

Lost Twin of Enzo (From Plush, Book/Movie (Fissarsi)) AU

Academy AU

Neko AU

Collar Colors: Grey, Black

Collar Charms: Wizard hat, sword, microphone,

Bell Color: Gold

Vampire AU

Doll AU

Greek God AU (Chrysus)

Lion King AU

Power Rangers AU (Green/White Ranger)

Alien AU

Zodiac AU

Harry Potter AU

Divergent AU

Pokemon AU

Hunger Games AU

Planet AU

Boogeyman AU

Phantom Family AU

AUs

[totallyrealhoroscopesdaily]

9/3/2018 Horoscope

Aries: The Bartender comes back, and you demand to be let go. He doesn’t fight you, doesn’t even offer a saying, just unlocks your ankle and walks away, further into his home. You watch him go, you feel like you’ve upset him and don’t know how to fix it. Dea asks if you’re going to go drown yourself again and make her come walk you to the afterlife. You beat a hasty retreat, not wanting to answer that. You’re shaking, and you feel off, wrong. You need a drink.

Taurus: There’s oil splattered all over your front and hands as you offer Tinap a choice piece of robotic insides. They hesitate, then slowly reach out and take it from you, and you smile wider. You have too many teeth and too many hands today. You lunge forward, shoving a hand at Tinap’s chest and pushing at them. They immediately faint, and that is not your fault. You land on top of them and turn your many hands to ripping open their chest. They accepted the gift, they must like it, it’ll be so much better than theirs, so much prettier. You rip out squishy bits and tie in hard metal that’s bending in your hands, oil to work like the blood and the blood to work like oil. You’re glad they’re asleep, this would be so painful for them, and today you don’t want them to hurt. You love your family, and today you don’t think they like being hurt, today you think they’ll love their new insides.

Gemini: You head home. This one is on the second floor, your apartment near the top is in the other city. Or, you guess it’s not legally yours, since you died and technically are a different person right now. You’re gonna have to deal with all this soon, because you aren’t willing to just leave behind one half of your life. For now though, you’re remarkably okay as you carry Frederick up with you and head inside. You set him down and head into the bathroom, you wanted to check the mirror. Your hair isn’t an abyss, a void, anymore, like you guessed. You don’t really know why your hair seems to be a marker for whatever this double stuff is, but it is and so you can take advantage of that. Now, it’s faded out to a pure white from the roots down, but gradually fades into a pitch black at the tips. You aren’t very surprised by that, but you think you’re probably going to dye it at some point. Looks a bit odd as it is.

Cancer: Life continues. You don’t have much of a reason to leave your home, you could get your groceries delivered and you don’t have anywhere to be. You make sure to go get your groceries yourself, you know it’d be unhealthy for you to stop going out, no matter how tempting it is. It’s also tempting to just stick you head under your pillow until everything just goes away, but that’s much less feasible.

Leo: You’re warm. It cradles you in it’s many hands that aren’t hands and you can see nothing. You’re warm, and you’re safe, and it means no harm. You’re okay, everything is fine. You’re smiling in your sleep, and you can feel it smile at you. Then it’s like your eyes are opened and you can see, and you see a figure in front of you, glowing. You uncurl and stand up straight, rolling out of it’s embrace, smiling at her. Fira looks unnerved by your cheerful greeting and you don’t understand why. Everything is fine and it means no harm, so why is she upset?

Virgo: You bake some biscuits. They’re shaped like little flowers, have a little white icing on top, and they’ll go great with some tea. You don’t actually drink tea, but you eat one anyway. It’s sweet, but not overwhelmingly so, like most of the other deserts you make are, just like you like it. If asked, you won’t admit that you baked these just because you wanted some comfort food you could stand, but, well.

Libra: You go online. You haven’t checked on that in a while. You head to the forum you were posting on, and you’re surprise to find a large debate happening in the comments on your posts. There’s also quite a few pro-magical posts that you had nothing to do with. You’re kinda shocked, this is visible progress of an actual conversation happening.

Scorpio: What am I supposed to write here? 

Alright, I suppose that’s all. At least it’s something, better than silence. It’s a rather strange form, though, this new input, all things considered.

Sagittarius: You really should just tell Bobby what happened. You aren’t sleeping and you just passed out. You don’t text him. You were losing him and the rest of the SPSG anyway, you might as well let it happen. It’ll hurt less if you don’t struggle, you tell yourself. You aren’t missing them, you aren’t regretting falling out of touch, you tell yourself. They’re better off without you bothering them anyway, you tell yourself. You think there’s something broken in you.

Capricorn: You stand out there for much longer than you should. You work your way through your warm-up, then warm up again, then go through your sets once, and twice, and three times. You go through sets that you only half remember, trying to follow unneeded routines to drag this out just that tad bit longer. You’re exhausted by the time you finally have to stop, and you only stop because you physically cannot continue anymore. You head inside, more disappointed than you have any right to be for reasons you can’t fully explain.

Aquarius: You follow your routine to the letter, except for two things. You don’t go to Suzy’s for dinner and you don’t stop in with Linda for tea. You find some comfort in the safety of your routine, but can’t help feeling sour and off-balance. They’re all pretending that it never existed, that you didn’t do anything, and it feels almost like you’re doing the same. You don’t want to do the same. It feels like forgetting and you don’t want to forget, you’re missing too many memories already. You hurt.

Pisces: The townsfolk are whispering about you. That isn’t new, but the tone is. They’re confused, curious. You helped the farmer, he’s unharmed. You’re dangerous, yet you didn’t raise a hand against them, you didn’t raise a hand against the bratty child who threw a tantrum. You had a gaggle of orphan children following you around like puppies and you were sweet to them. You’re dangerous and they’re afraid of you, but the children are not and the farmer was not. They’re confused.

[braindamageforbeginners]

Ice Floes

Quickly, before we begin: 1. this is a mostly-true anecdote that ties together several different, ideas I’ve had in the last two-ish days, including... 2. There are no ice floes here, it’s a reference to senecide in certain cultures (rarely practiced in Norhern Tribes and never practiced in the usual, “Send Grandma floating away on a chunk of ice!” way).

So, the first concept idea for this pieces my younger brother, Andy, who is working this summer s a fire-spotter in Idaho and/or Montana (he’s stationed in a national park that covers really big portions of both states). This is a cool, Norman Maclean manly-man style job for a grad student, and we were all fairly certain Andy would like his job (which, as a per-diem, is hard to beat, I’ll admit), and we’d all love to drop in and say hello, except I’m in very specific chemo ward 3-4 times a month (and that last week when I don’t have chemo, I still have to get them to draw my blood and run labs), so my schedule’s a little hard to work. And I started joking that, with our family’s luck, Andy would wind up in someplace with a name like ‘Dead Man’s Gulch” or “Rattleasnake Ridge” (remember that line) that we’d just as soon not bother with. Well, parents won’t be discouraged, so Dad’s thinking he might scratch off a bucket list item AND visit Andy... by backpacking to him (or near him). Which, even though he’s a nut for the treadmill, is not exactly the first phyisical task you’d nominate Dad for if you saw him in person. However, he’s decided to start training to address that very problem. Also, Andy’s fire station is somewhere in the Rattlesnake Mountains. I’m absolutely not making that up, Also, since my more-twisted jokes are apparently reshaping reality in their wake, I’d like to joke that I’ll be a multi-gabillionaire in a few years after someone reclassifies these scribbles as science-fiction.

One of the issues/questions I’m faced with all the time (aside from, “Why did we catch you tying truck nuts to Deputy Pierson’s police vehicle*?”) is how much of my time I really do devote to staying healthy and managing your disease/prescriptions/insurance/appointments. The short answer is, almost all of it. I know I spent a post last week essentially boasting how healthy I was, apart from having Stage IV cancer. What’s important is to know is that I take a weird sort of pride in that, and, as Dad has pointed out, in most cancer cases, the death/survival rate refers to elderly people who have other diseases or health issues in addition to cancer; he hasn’t heard of patients who get chemotherapy, then go for a 3-hour leg day the next day (I’d point out that having a pediatric cancer - as I did, sort of (another brain tumor) has serious long-term health implications for survivors, and now that I’m having toxic sludge pumped through me on  regular basis has a few more long-term associated-problems that I’d like to avoid. The point is, it is slowly starting to dawn on me that he might have a point, and I’m definitely doubling down on that bet, too. Which Dad knows, and knows I’ll be up for any dangerous stunt, as long as there’s even a minor probability of increased healthfulness. Which is why Dad and my step-mom invited me on Dad’s inaugural training hike; The Path of Pain (that’s not the official name, but it’s more accurate than the real thing). Now, bit of context; it’s not true that the Inuit would kill people by putting them on an ice flow and then sending them off. What is accurate - from my sources  - is that in times of famine, some Northern tribes (probably including the Inuit) would suddenly decamp in the middle of the night without telling Grandma and Grandpa. effectively leaving them to the mercy of the elements and luck/fate (to be fair, if the grandparents made it to the new camp, they were honored and informed of all future camp locations). So, I was aware of this when the following conversation occurred: SELF: This hike isn’t one of those obscure traditions where you’re going to leave the sick, infirm, and old - the societal deadwood, if you will - out in the elements to save the rest from starvation or something, is it? DAD: No. Why, are you worried we’d leave you behind? SELF: Nope, just stating - on behalf of the ill - that I have absolutely no intention of being out-distanced by the old just so I can be dire wolf bait. Also, I am absolutely prepared to lie and cheat in the name of that goal. Other people probably have better father-son chats. Other people are boring.

So, before I start describing the festivities - which involve a severe and horrifying betrayal - I might need to describe my disability status, and disability as it stands. GBM diagnosis is an automatic disability according to social security, because of that whole “really, really, high fatality rate and incredibly fast progression (although I’m okay now - I think, maybe - when I fist met Radiation Oncologist, she said the tumor had a 20% growth rate, which means it would double in size every five or so days - I shudder to think how bad, how quickly that could’ve gotten). And, even though I’m mostly-fine at the moment, for the first two weeks after my neurosurgery, I couldn’t walk. This was because I was completely numb on my left side for that time. Remember the last time you got a cavity filled and the dentist used novocaine? Imagine that sensation - or lack thereof - throughout your left side. Walking was a problem because I had no idea where my feet were (unless I was looking). I’ve come a long, long way since then, but that was not even eight months ago (before anyone asks, after a rather dismal showing by the physical therapists at the hospital, I haven’t been doing anything special to recover, other than exercising like my life depends on it). So, testing it on a steep, dangerous slope seemed bright.

Those of you who’ve been hiking with me probably have no trouble picturing the image. I don’t exactly skip up paths, but I do power through them the same grim, pig-headed determination that I’m bringing to the rest of this damned disease. The peak in question is about 1500 ft - not a prize-winner, to be sure, but it’s not a bad accomplishment for someone who couldn’t even go 150 feet not too long ago.

Now, with that smirking sense of triumph and gold star accomplishment, imagine my dismay when my wicked step-mother announced that this wasn’t the goal of the hike, the actual peak we were looking for was... 22 miles away. Okay, so that’s a bit of an exaggeration, the sum-total route was six miles, all on difficult trail. Greek heroes in classic tragedies endured less betrayal.

Now it would’ve been well within my power to request to go back; but, at that moment, I was feeling physically good at marching a mile in less than an hour, and that sensation somehow fused with testosterone, the Stetson, and male vanity, so, even though I knew at the time it might not be a good idea, all I could do was just grimly forge on with a few complaints. Good news, after a severe challenge to my dexterity, balance, and endurance, I’m still mostly-intact. I’m painfully sore from the waist down (I’ve said before, I’ll say it again, why isn’t codeine OTC in this Godforsaken country like it is in every civilized place on the planet). Left leg (and side) are not too bad, but the right foot’s killing me (I’ve tried stretching and rolling it on my yoga roller, which helped, but it’s still not up to snuff) - when I first got out of the car after arriving home (it’s a California thing; we drive for an hour to walk), I couldn’t, because that stupid right heel was too tender, And after all this, my reward to myself was an extra beer and another Tylenol. What have I become? Anyway, Dad and I have quietly agreed that sitting up and getting out of bed should definitely count as a trip to the gym (he’s also ordered a tree that’s sitting by the garage, so there’s a distinct possibility he has darker plans in store for me), and I’m personally going to try and keep my step-mother from any and all topographic maps. Still, you can’t outpace time and you’ll die if you ignore new constraints placed by disease, so I’ll look into some sort of walking stick (I spent the first five minutes back in the car slumped in the driver’s side because that’’s how achey/creeky I felt all on the left) before attempting anything that stupid and arduous again *I’ll credit Dad with this joke when he discovered that you can get a discount on these items if you order them online in bulk

[winterscream4]

No Works and No Days (Part 1)

“Love me a good mystery! Tra-la-la!”

The toy soldier advanced forward, climbing over a cake of burned out Pal-Mals, layered with a crust of ash at the top.

“No one can stop me now! I am at the top! And the New York Ripper will soon be in my gr…”

“AHAH!”

Another toy soldier landed from the sky, his spruce green face crudely washed over with pigments of white. Black circles enveloped his eyes and red paint was smudged round his lips.

“No, my dearest Marlowe! The world belongs to me! You better Hyde up or play dead! Not even the devil himself, can save you now!”

“Damn you Hyde! Run back into the gutter where you dragged your stinking ass from! Pew! Pew!”

A third soldier figure arose from behind the ashen pile. Threads of black cloth had been crudely sewn round his torso, ending in a double tail meant to resemble a 19th century frock.

“Time for you both to face the Music! Your Meister has arrived! Your pathetic strife shall serve as fine material for my new sonata!  Ha-hah-hah-hah!  John Martin, you are nothing but a hack! As for you detective, I shall strike you on the back! KABANG!”

Ding-Ding!

Marlowe dropped his toys and rushed to the microwave. White fumes and the scent of crackling meats met his nostrils, as he dragged out what some may called a club-sandwich but what most cardiologists would call the back road to an early grave.

Six slices of bread, the first filled with bacon and cheddar cheese, the second with barbeque sauce and potato fritters, the third with tomato, pork sausage and ketchup, the fourth with mayo and chicken nuggets, the fifth with beef and sour sauce and the sixth with grated parmesan and two fried eggs. A gruesome pile of carbohydrates and animal fat, self-humorously named by and after its inventor.

The Marlowe Sub. Also known as the shortest possible route to the emergency room.

With that monstrosity in hand, Marlowe hauled his newly acquired twenty-pound-extra beer-belly to the dining table, where he rested on a night-sky themed chair, made in 1924 as a gift from Clara Winter, to her son Robert, a few months before she perished from pneumonia. Marlowe, had spent the last two years of his life in the Winter manor, first setting in the Fall of 2018, when he attended the funeral of Christopher Winter’s housekeeper, James Krumphau.

James was diagnosed with liver cancer the previous year but kept it a secret from everyone he knew, including Marlowe. Yet again the people James knew count scarcely be counted in the fingers of two hands. James was never exactly the socialite, having spent half of his life serving the Winter family and the other half, being Christopher’s right hand man during his Music Meister years.

The housekeeper was always nice to him, albeit a little distant. Marlowe had garnered suspicions, that there were certain dark spots in James’ private history, albeit he paid no regard to them for long. After all, since his 2012 brush with Martin and the Black Glove, the classic detective novel mystery of “Who’s the criminal” had been reversed into “Who isn’t?”.

Even if James had claimed his literal pound of flesh, by the time they met, he had become one of Marlow’s handful of allies. In retrospect, James was the one to inform him that Christopher had willed him the Manor and half his fortune on that 2013 night that came to be known since as The Storm of the Century. James was also the man, who facilitated Marlowe by providing him with the passwords for all the Winter-family bank accounts and trust funds, including the house in Wilbraham, where Marlowe discovered the existence of the Black Glove and the spawn of their abandoned experiments. In the ensuing years, Marlowe would even receive letters from James once in a blue moon, typed in a code they had pre-agreed upon. James would share a few notes about his routine, but for the most part he inquired on his welfare and progress in rooting out the organization that had destroyed the life of Winter and Marlowe alike. Upon hearing the news in 2018, Marlowe rushed back to Midvintersville, where he made arrangements for James’ inhumation. Marlowe was not surprised to find himself alone during the ceremony, lest for James’ Asian-American nephew Lee, who had apparently visited his uncle a few times during Marlowe’s hunt for the Black Glove. Meanwhile, James had apparently spent his last years in prosaic retirement, tending the Winter manor and its grounds, interrupted only by a short adventure involving a Pleistocene fossil, his nephew had drawn him into.  Upon its closure, Lee had gifted his uncle with a Chinese pine Bonsai, that James never failed to prune and water and love as if it was the child he never had.

No tears were shed during the funeral, just a merciless silence occasionally interrupted by the uncanny echoes of the maple leaves dancing in the wind, before collapsing on the freshly mowed cemetery lawn. A single line from Homer’s Iliad was read by the Catholic pastor, before the mahogany casket with James in it, was swallowed by the dirt.

Like the generations of leaves, the lives of mortal men.

In the following day, when Marlowe read James’ will, he couldn’t do otherwise but take a moment to weep for James but maybe more so, for himself.  James had bequeathed his share of the Winter fortune to Marlowe and Lee alike, although the Winter Manor was left entirely under Marlowe’s custody. His sole request was for Marlow to care for the tree and be there for Lee should the need arise.

The little pine now rested against the oval window of the Winter Manor’s second floor ballroom. Marlowe would remind himself to water it each day, even when his ruminations became too self-consuming to let him rise from bed, he’d still force himself up to tend the Bonsai before burrowing under the sheets once more. Marlow had even employed the tree in reenacting vignettes from his life, using a vintage toy-soldiers set he had unearthed from the Manor’s old storage, that since 2008 had become the Music Meister’s center of operations. Under its upward pointing branches, lay three soldiers whose faces he had charred against the hearth’s embers and then placed in horizontal position, each marked with the label: Prospero, Driskull, Boisette. Three powerful men who sought immortality, and left mountains of bodies in their efforts to achieve it. And yet the last beheaded the rest and he was in turn penetrated to death by the very man whose cruelty he envied. A much coveted eternity, cut short by the razor-sharp fangs of a monstrous always.

Marlowe often starred at the pine’s, fallen needle-sharp foliage, drying and dying and rotting over the toys representing the inhumane leaders of the Black Glove. And he would often take pleasure in the thought, that his actions, in part, made sure that men like them deserved to have no place on earth, or beneath it.

Like the generations of leaves, the lives of mortal men.

 The once detective, now close-to-obesity recluse, however had little clue on how to care for anything living. Youtube channels on botany and gardening tutorials came to be of great help, teaching him the delicate arts of trimming, soil enhancing and of course, the spiritual and medicinal value of plants across human history.

In his early days at Winter manor, Marlowe attempted to dig deeper into plants, immersing himself into books about foraging and gathering as well as the transcendental aspects of the natural world, he found in the pages of Henry Thoreau’s Walden. Marlowe even attempted to conduct Thoreau’s experiment for a while.

In early 2019, he had moved to a tightly-spaced lodge not far from the Manor, where he spent his days, wandering across the forested lands surrounding the property, ensuring the well-being of James’ child as well as the much larger: mountain planes, black spruces, white oaks, balsam firs and the bonsai’s towering cousin, the white pine. His diet consisted solely of wild apples, grains, dried nuts and a variety of fungi, weeds and berries like the newly sprouting cattails he’d heat and serve with dandelion and purslane toppings, and the salty morels he’d sizzle on the campfire with elderberries and meadowsweets. Sumac and dog-rose teas became his daily refreshments, while his wonderings provided daily inspiration in the shape of new discoveries of various shapes, size and species.

Alien-looking British Soldier lichens, multicolored lady-slippers and processions of various insects and parasites growing out of severed tree stumps were but a few of the curiosities he’d encounter as the woods themselves seemed to come alive throughout spring. Vireos, wobblers, whippoorwills and the occasional grouse, would often surround his lodge for scraps, while in the still of some King’s Country summer nights, a barred owl would descend like a shadow of times long past, a demon-winged silhouette against the silver moon, snatching the avian visitors away from the camp and into scalpel-like talons that promised an one-way trip to the spectral realm. Marlowe witnessed it in full only once, yet he did not fail to see the semblance between the majestic and terrifying grace of the ancient bird and the thing he had seen John Martin transform into, a few years ago.

Reflecting upon that night’s experience, Marlowe started putting bizarre sketches into paper. While finishing the lines of two shadows, facing together at an endless ocean formed of teeth, gloves, hats, scarves and corpse-baring owls, he felt a sharp pain cutting across his stomach. At first, Marlow lifted his flannel shirt, glancing at the ten-centimeter line of still healing flesh, outlining the area below his ribcage. Marlowe gnarled as memories of Stephen Boisette slicing right through him with a double-edged saber, gifting him a scar the size of a pencil, were returning. The Alchemist, the Black Glove’s personal bulldog. The man that framed him for the murder of a girl at Cambridge all those years ago, turning him into England’s scapegoat for a decade. The man who gloated after his mother’s death from cancer. The man that got an inch away from sending him to join her. Now dead, by Martin’s dick and teeth. Served him well.

But the ache returned, stronger now, more penetrative.

His gut began turning ferociously as Marlowe crawled on his knees, pushing himself to and fro against the moss-covered stump of a severed birch.

The last thing he remembered when he woke up in the E.R., was dialing 991 and watching a cauldron of bats with a barred owl, savagely screeching at their tail, breaking away from the canopy and into the evening sky.

[smuttyfairy]

Squares [1.]

Does it help you stay up late? Does it help you concentrate? Does it tune you in when you chew your chin? Am I ruining your fun? - Arctic Monkeys “Black Treacle” [1.] [2.] Genre: Angst (Smut later)

Summary: You’ve ran away and tried to start over, but the demons you run from keep you up at night. The only thing to comfort you is cancer sticks and mind tricks. But this guy isn’t a mind trick, he’s a wake up call. Warnings: Smoking Word Count: 1,310

Written by: Smutty Jaefairy A/N: Ongoing series, second chapter later this week. (Edit: Second chapter is up now, link is above. Please treat my new story well, and give it lots of love. )

There was no real reason to sneak out at 1:00am. There wasn't anything behind you slipping out after bed checks, creeping around the camera's blind spots, walking down the eerie silence of the hall and out the back door. It was impulse that lead you down the concrete steps, pushing the side door quietly, your steps echoed into the dark night. Soft crunches of leaves reminded you that you were walking. You were stepping across the street to the smoking section. You were here, in the dark at night. You were here and breathing. Some nights were harder than others, and in those difficult times you wandered here. Your hand held the box of red newports in your hand, your lips craving the taste of the filter against your lips. You were here in your addiction. You were alive and you were coping. You could have waited til it was 7:00am and did this, but you needed this. You yearned for something more painful, something more sharp and stinging to inflict on yourself. For now, passive chemical poison in the form of smoke would do. You tiptoed around the smoking section and slipped into the wooden bench. It took you a moment, but in the midst of your anxiety you didn't noticed the man next to you. He sat on top of the table, a cigarette hung lazily from his lips. the smoke rose, making ghosts in the air, rising into the air. It stretched and thinned out, as if it was trying to reach the pale moon. In the moonlight, his pale skin glowed. His black hair hid his eyebrows, short curtain against his thin eyes. Once you lit your first square, inhaled and exhaled, you felt yourself coming back. In your cloud of smoke, you saw him. First, the red hoodie. Then the black beanie. At first, you thought someone else snuck out. Once he turned around and his eyes met yours, you felt caution rise in your stomach. Men couldn’t be here. He wasn’t allowed to be outside smoking. ”You can’t be out here.” Your voice came out, unsure and hushed. ”Neither can you.” He held his cigarette with his delicate fingers, inhaling. As the smoke billowed from his nose, he stubbed what little was left onto the table. A black mark of ash and smoke remained, the only proof that this was real. That he was here with you, in this moment. ”How would you know?” You took the warm tobacco smoke into your mouth and exhaled as he lit another. A red newport box laid next to him, the only friend he had in the night. ”Just a hunch.” He shrugged turning around and looking at the sky. You two smoked in silence, the air warm, clinging to the awkward mood, thickening the air. ”You shouldn’t make assumptions, you could get arrested for trespassing. “ ”I’ll be gone soon, don’t worry about me.” He rose up, getting off the table and taking a seat across from you. You two continued your silent smoking, your fingers scratching the inside of your wrists. After your first cigarette was close to the filter, you tossed it aside, instantly going for the second. The man watched you, but you felt your words stick to your throat. Settling into your usual routine, you took in the taste and the smell. The sounds of the night air and the look of the streets at night. The longer you stayed out there, the more you felt yourself space out and your brain settled in that special dark place. You heard voices and opening of beer bottles. Creaky beds and the taste of tequila on your tongue. You had to get out of this place. This wasn’t the right place. At that moment the sting of the end of the cigarette brought you back to the smoking section. You were here with the stale awkward air, the young guy and the stench of smoke clinging to your clothes. You tossed and lit another. It was too close, you couldn’t slip in that darkness. You wouldn’t know a way out. ”Isn’t that your third one? You should cut back.” The young man’s voice broke your slight panic for a moment. You gave him a raised eyebrow and a wry smile.   ”I’m fine. I need it. “ Hoping he would drop any chance at making conversation, he continued unfortunately. ”You need your lungs more, don’t you think?” ”Says the guy who just smoked two of the most harmful brand.” You pointed at his limp cigarette box. ”You have the same pack.” He nodded towards the one in your hands. Meeting two people who smoked red newports was rare. It was always teal everywhere you went. You wanted to believe it was some kind of omen, some kind of sign that this person was important. That never happened, so you didn’t entertain such things. Your reply was a short grunt and a deep inhale. As you finished your last one for the night, as you were tossing it in your graveyard of butts, the man stood up, dusting off his jeans. He opened his mouth to say something, but acted against it. You shoved your cigarettes into you pocket and began walking back to the building. Nervously, the young man shouted to you. Turning around you stared at him with a blank face. Why couldn’t he leave you alone?   ”Suga. My name is Suga.” You made a mental note not to remember it. ”Y/n.” You said without hesitating, because he would forget it. They usually do. ”If you ever need a smoking buddy, I’m usually out here around this time. Take care.” He waved halfheartedly before walking in the other direction. As you snuck back in, jumping the fence, dodging the cameras and sneaking back into your bed, you told yourself over and over to forget what just happened. And so the next day went on. You went to your counselor, you participated in classes. You engaged, stayed positive, even if inside you felt otherwise. It wasn’t about how you were feeling, it was about making progress. It was about showing that you can do it, proving to everyone that you were better than your past mistakes. You couldn’t fuck this up. You only had one chance. But when classes were over and you were settled in your dorm, after dinner and after chores, and you were laying in the dark silence, those skeletons from your past seem to come alive. Creeping out your closet and using your skin as shelter. Sensations that made you uncomfortable and uneasy left you wide awake. The recurring conversations burned your ears. You were waiting, you were hoping for that flashlight to fill your room for seconds. Just so you could sneak out, light a cigarette or two and ease yourself to sleep. You didn’t have to think about five years ago, or your weekly schedule. Just the taste of poison and the night air. All alone, you and that comforting cloud. As soon as the lights flashed, you counted to two hundred and dashed out the building. You could feel lighter, as if bones were shaking off your body. You dashed past the cameras, down the steps and out the door. To the smoking section. To refuge. As you sat at the wooden picnic table, lighting your square with need, soft crunches of concrete alerted you. You looked up and the young man from the previous night sat across from you, once again.   ”Hello, Suga. “ Your voice spilled the words out on impulse. He gave a weak smile, lighting a cigarette. You felt uneasy again, but let yourself indulge in the smoke and the unwanted company. Because you knew, in the back of your mind, that you never were this eager to get out until you met Suga.

[dancingbeyondcancer]

Chapter 09 - Dancing Beyond Cancer - What's Up Doc

Chapter 9 -------- What’s up Doc?

Danielle was constantly reconnecting with friends as her health began to improve. One friend had recommended that we meet with one of their mutual friends who was a Naturopathic Doctor (ND) in town. Danielle and I agreed that since we couldn’t get in touch with Doc as regularly that it might be best to have a back-up doctor. We decided to set up a consultation with her friend. Danielle was very familiar with the new doctor since she had worked as a front desk secretary for her and Doc some years prior.

I was very impressed at the first consultation with our new ND. She was incredibly professional and on top of that highly knowledgeable. I would say that she was not an expert on treating cancer, but she had hands-on experience treating it with alternative methods. We talked while she took Danielle’s vitals. We discussed the treatments that we had already started.

We told her that we were using the hyperbaric oxygen treatment to help with healing from the surgery. We also had used an alpha-lipoic acid supplement. There wasn’t much that we were doing that she had any problems with except the oxygen chamber. She wasn’t sure if the increased oxygen would also increase the growth of cancer. She supported it to help with healing from the surgery but didn’t recommend it for further treatment.

She had a couple of other options she wanted to present to us. The first was a light therapy device. We had investigated another device in town because of the data that has shown these light therapy devices can shrink cancer tumors and even rid the body of cancer completely. However, the device also uses additional Electromagnetic Fields during the treatment, which means Danielle wouldn’t use it. It isn’t that she couldn’t use it, but her phobia of EMF treatment made it not worth trying. The ND explained her light therapy was just light and no other frequencies. Danielle was on board for adding this treatment as soon as possible.

She also told us about a new IV treatment derived from a turmeric extract. It was called curcumin, and there was a doctor in Phoenix who was using it extensively to treat Cancer. She had a patient that had used it, and it put his stage 4 cancer into remission. She even told us that he was a McDonald’s diet type of guy, so she was very optimistic about Danielle’s situation. I learned turmeric was showing incredible anti-cancer properties, but now they were creating a more concentrated extract administered through an IV.

The big issue with this treatment was that insurance wouldn’t cover it. Each IV was also going to run between three hundred to six hundred dollars per treatment. Depending on the concentrations, it was going to be more or less expensive. Danielle would also have to run the IV once or twice a week. The price tag was daunting. I would have to start making far more money to pay for it myself.

The next item that she provided us with was a list of things that we should avoid. The list was extensive; it told us to avoid soy, gluten, and other refined sugars. The biggest thing that caught my attention was that memory foam mattresses, according to her, could be cancerous. I was a little bothered because the mattress I was planning on bringing up from storage was a memory foam mattress. So now we were left with a single mattress as our only solution.

Igniting the start of a crazy struggle to find a mattress solution. It wasn’t something that fit into the budget in the immediate future, so I just put it on the back burner. I was still sleeping fine on the single mattress with Danielle. A solution we didn’t need to focus on now.

The solution we decided on was starting the curcumin treatment as soon as possible. The additional research I had done showed that it was not harmful to the body, but it was highly anti-cancerous. It was a more natural form of chemo without all the crazy side effects. Danielle was confident it was the treatment for her. I just wished her family showed the same support. The price was our primary concern. I certainly couldn’t pay all the bills and pay for treatment. Danielle’s insurance didn’t cover any treatment that wasn’t chemotherapy or radiation. Additionally, we weren’t receiving any financial support from either of our family’s, but that wouldn’t stop us.

The first step we decided to proceed with was to have a chemo port installed. I know it sounds a bit strange, but it was necessary for Danielle. We had initially declined this after her surgery because our goals were different. Now a port was the best option. Danielle had trouble with people being able to find her veins, so if we had a port, running IV’s could be far easier to administer.

The insurance would only cover the port installation for chemotherapy. So it was decided that when we visited the surgeon, we would set up an appointment to have a port installed.  Danielle decided to tell the Doctor that she was going to do Chemotherapy. It was all working out, but we still weren’t sure how we were going to cover six hundred to twelve hundred dollars a week in IV’s.

The ND also told us many other things to avoid, including stress to give Danielle the best chance for recovery. The plan included a modification to her diet and some chemicals to avoid. After going over everything, the ND also decided that the water could have been a huge culprit and that tap water could potentially be very harmful. The ND also informed us that the unmonitored estrogen doses that her other doctor was giving her might have been a huge contributor to the development of her Ovarian Cancer.

Now, this is where one of the first big arguments happened that put some serious stress on our relationship. Mostly due to my ignorance and expecting an answer about what caused Danielle’s cancer. We still had to meet back with the Surgeon for a check-up on the surgery. I was fully expecting to hear back from the surgeon that they had figured out what might have caused cancer to develop. I wanted answers from someone who promised me answers.

Danielle discussed her entire medical history with her doctor friend. She went on to explain her extensive use of IV’s for vitamins and estrogen. The ND explained Danielle should have been monitoring her estrogen levels during that time. Danielle confirmed the doctor never tested her levels.  Leading Danielle to conclude, that a doubling of her estrogen doses six months prior was a contributing factor to her cancer.  A possible cause was not quite the answer I wanted.

Nothing could convince Danielle differently. The doctor who gave her years of IV’s was at fault. It broke her to learn that her friend didn’t run the proper tests, tests which were required. The years of trust vanished in an instant. Danielle did nothing but vent about how angry she was at the situation she was in, and that it apparently could have been avoided. I couldn’t have understood the level of betrayal that Danielle felt. She became upset that I didn’t take her side completely on the matter.

Our arguments were explosive and never ended well. There was no doubt in Danielle’s mind, and I couldn’t accept that. I still wasn’t sure and didn’t want to be blaming someone if there was another cause. I didn’t want to jump to conclusions. I wanted answers, I wanted proof, and the surgeon was the man to give me those answers.

Danielle was not looking forward to the meeting like I was. Leading up to the doctor's appointment, Danielle showed increased health problems, especially through the night. I could easily tell when she was stressed about something because her pain would intensify, she would have more digestive issues, and on top of that would end up sleeping far less. I always tried to provide positive reassurance. I constantly wanted to show her the love she deserved, especially during times when it was so important I do so.

This trip required a lot of support for Danielle on my part, she not only wasn’t looking forward to the 4 hours we would spend in the car, but she didn’t enjoy going to the Doctor’s. Every time we go to a Doctor’s, they must tell us that Danielle is going to Die if she doesn’t do Chemo or Radiation. Even our Naturopathic Doctor had to tell us “by law” that Danielle was going to die without doing treatments that are approved by the American Medical Association. I can’t imagine the fear that comes with confronting people who repeatedly reminded her she was going to die.

This trip to Phoenix was a little tense, but we both managed to make the journey without any serious issues. Danielle’s comfort level was way down, her pain was constantly increasing, and we were less than halfway through our journey. We met at the doctor's offices instead of the Hospital. I hadn’t realized that we were going to a different location about 20 minutes further down the road. Meaning we had to take an extra bathroom stop, setting us a little behind schedule.  

We arrived at the offices to find accommodations far nicer than we were expecting. The office had a much nicer atmosphere than the huge cold hospital. It put Danielle a bit at ease to not have to walk through the long hallways. I was thankful that they had tea and snacks in the waiting room. We welcomed anything that put us both more at ease. I was rife with anticipation, but Danielle was anxious and terrified.

The surgery to get the port scared Danielle the most. However, the surgeon sold us on having him perform the surgery. When I say he sold us, I mean he sold us on using him to install the port.  Danielle and I decided there wasn’t another surgeon in the country that we would have used. We already witnessed his work once, and Danielle was satisfied with his current remarks.  After his inspection of the area, he operated on, and he expressed healing was progressing well and that she should expect a full recovery within a month. A huge relief to us since we hadn’t “officially” consummated the marriage yet. Thankfully we didn’t wait till the wedding.

The Surgeon knew his stuff about Surgery. However, I would be disappointed with his answers about my wife’s cancer and potential treatment options. Danielle and I both inquired about the less harmful options that he had mentioned, but again, we were told that those options weren’t available for us — telling us that the abdominal port that he already installed was a new type of chemotherapy. The same new treatment that we had already had aggressively pushed on us. At the time, I didn’t think it was best to start treatment until her body had fully healed. Now it was different.  

Danielle was mostly healed, and in a place to honestly look at the options. So we asked more questions about the abdominal port chemo bath, which was set up to put chemo right into the location of where he removed the Cancer. It seems like an effective possibility except that he finally informed us that some people end up only doing one to three treatments because it is so intense. I could tell right away my wife was scared, pissed, and mad that they would attempt to put something so toxic in her without disclosing this huge truth.

Danielle told him that she would pass on that treatment option but would proceed with a more traditional approach. We would have the port installed in Phoenix by this incredible surgeon, and she said she would receive treatment in Sedona at the local oncologist. We made appointments to get the port installed, and we also set up a consultation with the local oncologist.  

When the Surgeon finally decided to go over the tests they had run on the Cancer, I was thrilled, well initially thrilled. I was hoping to find the answers we were looking for, but instead, I was completely disappointed. Not only did they have no answer to the cause of her cancer but that they weren’t even going to investigate further. The DNA test had turned back a negative so there was no answer that the Medical Establishment would or could provide. I was pissed off. I had held out blame in hopes of any additional information.

I felt horrible at my stance towards the cause of my wife’s cancer.  I was truly sorry for any strife I caused between us. I was expecting answers, and the only answer we had was basic malpractice. It did bring some peace between us, but it did create mutual anger towards the doctor who administered the estrogen IV’s. Truthfully this is the first time I officially felt let down by the Medical Establishment. I wanted to know what caused my wife’s cancer or cancer in general, but the truth is that the entire Medical Industry didn’t care. I was so angry.

Despite our issues, we scheduled our appointment back to Phoenix. The rides were rough for Danielle. The hour and forty minutes between Sedona and the Hospital was very strenuous on her fragile body. The 03’ Mustang wasn’t the easiest car to get into or out of after surgery. However, the ride was smooth enough not to cause much more discomfort.

I stayed strong through these trips because I knew my wife needed me to be. With all the energy I could muster, I made sure that she had someone present for this new operation. Undergoing surgery struck fear into Danielle. I knew she didn’t look forward to the side effects of the Anesthesia or the meds that the hospital would provide. It is difficult when the side effects can be worse than the original diagnosis. Prescription Medications were one of the most harmful substances that my wife consumed while sick. The problems forced Danielle to use them as little as possible.

Installing the port was the smoothest adventure so far. Danielle was stressed about the surgery while also relieved that she would be able to start treatment. It also meant that drawing blood would be easier. Since Danielle suffered from very thin veins, she always had nurses that needed help finding her veins. So often I felt like they used her like a pin cushion before consenting to additional help.  On several instances, we had to have an ultrasound machine to find her veins.

I had to leave the room whenever they would draw blood or insert an IV. I would get so light-headed around needles that I would nearly pass out. It was the same my whole life with piercings or even worse injuries. I don’t think I could ever be a doctor because of those issues. One time I did pass out during my blood draw. The nurse was surprised but continued the procedure since I passed out sitting up. I thanked her and spent the next hour recovering. My wife was nothing like me when it came to IV’s or needles.  

After another routine week of recovery time, we were scheduled to talk to the Oncologist. I was a little more excited about this meeting because I figured an Oncologist would have all the answers. We needed to have all the answers so that anyone who questioned us could see we did the fact-finding ourselves. I didn’t see any way to stop her family without all the answers. Danielle was willing to do anything to gain her family’s support. It was crucial to me that we find a way to stop the stresses caused by the lack of support.

Danielle even canceled the initial appointment because she didn’t want to be pressured to do the chemotherapy. I supported her decision, but I guess that wasn’t enough. The pressure from her family caused her to set up the appointment secretly. I didn’t mind either way as I wanted to answer more of my questions.

Several days before the appointment at the oncologists, I could tell she was getting nervous again. Talking about it would cause her to stress; she would constantly question if she should even go. I would constantly tell her that we were going to get more answers, and answers we desperately needed to bring some peace between her and her family. I didn’t tell my family any details about the treatment we choose, mostly because I didn’t want to deal with their opinions. I knew my family knew nothing about cancer treatment. If I’m going to find some answers, I will get the answers from the professional or expert.

The trip to the Oncologist was not the same experience for me as it was for Danielle. I wasn’t scared to hear what she had to say.  I fully intended her to answer all the questions I had about chemo. I was genuinely a bit excited to see into the lion's den. I thought it was going to be a very informative visit, no matter the outcome. After an hour wait to see the Doctor, I was in for a huge disappointment.

The doctor came in as most do and ran through the usual patient checkup and went through her records. We again discussed all of Danielle’s previous illnesses. We even discussed that Danielle had lost over a pint of blood and had chosen to decline a blood transfusion, meaning she rebuilt all her blood naturally. It was not something most people walk away from, but after surviving several life-threatening illnesses, it wasn’t unusual for Danielle to survive the impossible. We all joked about her past medical history, and that led to our concern with using such strong chemotherapy.

We were hoping for a new solution. The Surgeon had told us that there were new, less harmful chemotherapies now becoming available, and we asked her if that was an option. She said that the only one that she recommended in our case was the strongest and potentially most dangerous treatment option. The problem is they didn’t let us choose, and they only offered one treatment. It felt like there was no consideration for my wife’s personal medical history.

The medical establishment could only provide one option. There was not going to be another alternative. Danielle was upset to learn there were no other choices because we were expecting to hear about a safer version of Chemo.  As Danielle put it, we were facing the Cadillac of Chemotherapies. The frustration came with the lack of other options and a complete lack of support for alternative options. I anticipated that would be the answer we would receive. What I didn’t anticipate is how the doctor would respond to my other questions.

I think my first trigger was when the Doctor asked if Danielle was eating enough. I proceeded to tell the Doctor exactly what she was eating daily. When I finished, I asked if that was enough? She responded, “I don’t know. I’m not a dietician.” I couldn’t believe that diet was not a primary concern for cancer patients. My research showed how helpful diet was in maintaining proper health. So why wouldn’t a cancer doctor be educated on the topic?

It was game time for me, and the gloves were coming off. I started asking serious questions about what we could expect from the chemotherapy the doctors recommended. Such as what potential health problems could we be facing? The doctor was not interested in disclosing the side effects and avoided the question completely. She decided it was best to print out the medical disclosure. I was somewhat satisfied knowing I would have the information I wanted. It still upset me that she wouldn’t discuss that with us.

To skirt the issue, our oncologist said something I still can’t believe. The doctor proceeded to tell us that chemotherapy was derived from the bark of the Pacific Yew tree. The doctor explained the medical industry created a synthetic version that works exactly the same, to protect the tree. As if to inspire a positive response from us. I said, “If there is a more natural version, then why can’t we try that instead?” She didn’t have an answer.

I don’t even remember the questions I asked next, but I can clearly remember my reaction to her response. I was expecting an experienced professional to provide me with answers. Instead, she looked up my remaining questions on WebMD. I was beyond upset at the apparent incompetence that showed. I couldn’t believe that the doctor had to look up answers online.  Considering I could answer further questions this way, I decided to stop my questioning. I was in utter disbelief. I lost all remaining faith in our for-profit cancer treatment centers during this visit.

After learning that the doctor didn’t think diet was important to cancer treatment, I was appalled to find buckets of candy throughout the cancer ward.  They were feeding high fructose corn syrup in copious amounts to patients who have cancer. Considering cancer thrives on sugar, and even more on refined sugar, I couldn’t believe my eyes. Doc and our ND had confirmed this fact. It was a huge reality check for me.

The whole show was about money, not health. I realized that the cancer industry doesn’t care about the health of people, near as much as they like being able to provide expensive treatments to patients. Our doctor would have made over one hundred and fifty thousand dollars for the treatment she wanted to give us. A treatment that she was required by law to recommend. A law that utterly violates any sense of medical freedom. It made me think, but it also made me mad. My anger toward the Cancer Industry continued to grow, and it looks like it was not going to stop growing either.

Danielle was not satisfied with the answers that the doctor provided, and she declined to move forward with any further treatment. This choice was a surprise to the doctor, and she proceeded to tell us just like all the other doctors, that we faced a high probability of death if we didn’t proceed with her recommendations. Sadly considering our circumstances, I felt the same way if we did try the chemo. Danielle didn’t want to face a potentially more destructive foe if the solutions were going to cause worse side effects. Again the solutions were nothing more than putting band aids on problems as they arose. It didn’t fill us with a bit of confidence.

Danielle asked one more question before we ended our appointment. She was concerned about monitoring her cancer markers and was hoping to reschedule another appointment. The doctor's response threw both of us a curve ball. We were informed that the doctor was very busy with training students, had many patients, and also, we were not pursuing treatment. Due to these reasons, we would only be scheduled for another appointment six months from that date. Danielle felt this was unacceptable. The doctor did not concede, leaving us both confused and angry.

After another terrible experience in a hospital for both Danielle and I, we knew there was no way that we would ever do chemo to fight her cancer. Not only did the sheets she provided show that there was a possibility of death, but it also showed serious side effects that Danielle, still, was not going to sign up for. We weren’t going to do something that felt so wrong. It didn’t matter that some parents, her mom, and sister were pressuring her to try Chemo. I had no problem standing my ground on the topic, and neither did Danielle. After this appointment, she made it excessively clear that she was done talking about chemotherapy. I could see that the decision was not a solution for us.

Danielle and I didn’t need to find any more answers from the mainstream medical industry. We knew what we were going to do. While I probably would not choose the same options my wife chose, I undoubtedly supported her decision. We poured through mountains of information to reinforce our belief in making the best choice. The experience helped my knowledge grow exponentially. Talking to professionals and receiving insights taught me more than any of the hundreds of medical articles that I previously read. I learned how we were going to treat my wife’s cancer. I had to support her decisions.

I knew that my wife was going to do it her way. It wasn’t about me or my way, and it had to be all about her situation. I had to put my ego aside and support my wife in her decisions, even if I didn’t completely agree. I could offer my input but had to allow her to use it or not. It wasn’t easy for me, but it was something that I learned to do in even the most stressful of circumstances. We all need to learn the skill of supporting people in their journey without putting our projections and desires on them too.

It was becoming more difficult to face the fact that the medical industry was never going to support our decision. Made even more frustrating that by law, doctors and nurses had to tell Danielle she was going to Die. I hoped that was it for Mainstream doctors, who constantly reminded Danielle of her demise, and the uncertain future she faced. Danielle faced all the additional trauma because we needed to convince her family that her decision was the right one. Danielle so desperately wanted the full support of her family in her decision.

I find it imperative to unify in support of a treatment option, and we cannot be divided. The division leads to doubt, and doubt can be the real killer.  I find it criminal not to support treatments, especially in a world that scientifically recognizes the placebo or nocebo effect.  Which states that treatments work or fail based on belief. All medications must beat the placebo effect to become available to the public. Sugar pills have been proven to cure more times than any pharmaceutical company would ever care to admit. So why does a law exist that creates a nocebo effect?

Despite the stress of the adventure, we walked away more resolute in our undertaking. There was no doubt in my mind that Danielle was making the right decision. However, despite both of us going through the same experience, Danielle did not walk away, completely satisfied. If I had known, I might have made changes then and there. It was at this point that Danielle needed to believe in her treatment. There weren’t enough people in her life that were showing her the support she wanted. Something needed to push us in the right direction, but I didn’t know what.

Then probably the second biggest miracle possible happened. The friend she had reached out to and that put us in touch with the ND showed up and offered to pay for the treatment. She also wrote my wife a check to pay for other medical expenses too. It was a huge relief to me since I only started getting paid at my new job. It took all the pressure of making sure we could afford treatment, off my shoulders. It would have killed me if we weren’t able to do treatment because we didn’t have enough money. Now we had more than enough to proceed with all treatment regimens.

Danielle’s friend truly showed her support in making sure Danielle would have the best chance to return to full health. Danielle even turned away an extra check she was going to write to me, but we both agreed that was excessive. I’ve always worked hard and earned what I needed or wanted, so bailouts have always made me feel uncomfortable. We welcomed the assistance and were incredibly grateful.

Please feel Free to share or re-post this chapter.  Stay tuned next Monday for Chapter 6 of Dancing Beyond Cancer  If you would like to finish the story NOW you can purchase the full book at...

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[mtwy]

Seventeen

USA April 1985

Madonna - Born to be a Winner

If you can tell the diference between a pop song and the national anthem, there’s little need to identify Madonna. Singing her sultry ballads, within the past couple of years, she has become a household name. “All performers have certain qualities that remind you of what you have inside yourself,” she says. “People relate to qualities in me that are vulnerable, sexy, childlike.”

Watching her slither and slink through the canals of Venice like a sophisticated sex kitten in her smash video Like a Virgin, it seems a far cry from the days when she made her first expedition to New York from Michigan, with $35 in her pocket. It was 1978, and she was seventeen.

“when I first came, I didn’t know a soul,” she says. “I had never been on an airplane, never ridden in a taxi, didn’t know anyone, had no place to stay.” As an afterthought, she adds, “I had never even seen a cockroach (referring to that familiar New York inhabitant)! I was fearles then. It was the bravest thing I’ve ever done!”

In the New York offices of her record comapny, Sire/Warner Bros., Madonna is a riveting eyeful: Wearing tan breeches and boots, with an army-surplus leather cartridge belt twisted around her waist, she’s draped with costume jewelry and chains and adorned with multiple crucifixes and crosses. Madonna has a flair for the dramatic. “I have this fixation about crucifixes,” she declares. “I wear them all the time. I like what they symbolize: suffering. It’s not neccessary to suffer, but most sensitive people do, whether over a career, falling in love, or relationship. People who have suffered are more interesting. Pain makes you grow.”

Although her first album, Madonna, is spinning on more than two million turntables - a number likely to be surpassed by her follow-up album, Like a Virgin - Madonna looks to the future. “pop music is the voice of youth,” she says. “I don’t want to be a pop star when I’m forty-five, but I might want to be a great actress.” Currently appearing on-screen in Vision Quest (starring Matthew Modine) in cameo role as a nightclub singer, she has a starring role as a hip kook from the big city in another new movie, Orion Pictures’ Desperately Seeking Susan (in which she does not sing). Orion at first hesitated to sign an inexperienced actress for a major role, then decided that no one else they had tested projected that offbeat quality.

“the girl I play leads a whild life,” says Madonna, “but she’s a real innocent. People are attracted to and curious about her. Rosanna Arquette plays a suburban housewife whose life is so boring she starts to follow me around. Then she gets amnesia and thinks she’s me. It’s a screwball comedy-mystery-romance.” With dead-pan delight, Madonna displays her blue fingernails: Blue, yellow, black - her nail polish is color-coordinated to each change of wardrobe in the movie.

Madonna’s not the sort of girl you can hide under a bushel. Moviemakers have offered her parts before, like that of a woman with a child, deserted by her husband. But she wasn’t about to step into that pothole. “I didn’t like the image,” Madonna declares. “In my first few parts, I wouldn’t play a loser. I’m a winner! People have a very hard time realizing that a role in a movie is just that and not your true personality.” Madonna could never be taken for a loser. Her own story could easily provide her with the role of a lifetime.

It would begin back in her home state of Michigan. “I’m from Bay City, Pontiac, Rochester, Detroit, all over the place,” she says. Her father worked in the automobile industry; her mother died of cancer when Madonna was seven, leaving eight children behind. Madonna - actually Madonna Louise Veronica Ciccone - not twenty-four, is the oldest girl. She has two older brothers. “My father couldn’t take care of us all,” she says. “We split up, lived with friends, relatives. Then we got a housekeeper, but we were a wild bunch; we’d go through one after another and hated them all.” When she was ten, her father married one of the family’s housekeepers. “We had to start calling her Mom, and it was really hard to accept her in a position of authority,” she says. “All of us had a chip o our shoulder because of what we’d been through. But I was a pretty strong little girl, and in a way, it forced me to stand on my own two feet, not rely on anyone.”

After attending Catholic elementary schools, madonna went to public high school in Rochester. Describing herself at the time, she says “I was pretty snotty. Outgoing but in a rebellious way. There were two factions - the hippies, who had long hair and skipped class, and the jocks, who went to all the games and got good grades. I enjoyed athletics but hated the mentality of the jocks. And i hated the lazy, spaced out potheads.”

She always dressed in a striking fashion. “A lot of that had to do with my having to wear school uniforms for so long,” she explains. “You tend to do anything you can to look different.” Her parents used to tell her she dressed immodestly. “I weasn’t allowed to wear tight pants or short skirts,” she says, “so I’d wear one thing out of the house, then change when I got to school.” She favored bright colors, short skirts, and high heels. “i’d go from looking like a real bum to looking like a real tart,” she says with a laugh. She never dated anyone for more than a couple weeks: “Guys didn’t understand me and always ended up making me feel stupid.”

From the time she was twelve, Madonna took dance lessons. ballet class became the most important thing in her life. “It was like stepping into a fantasy world,” she recalls. “My teacher, Christopher Flynn, was really great - he told me that I was beautiful and talented and that I could really be something. He made me feel it was all right that I didn’t fit in at school.”

Like many performers, Madonna has had an inner drive to perform ever since she can remember. As part of a large family, she was obsessed with getting attention. As a child, she’d dance on a tabletop, mimic performers on TV. During her senior year in high school, she participated in a dance program run by a Detroit college. She would go to school in the morning, then drive to Detroit to take class and watch rehearsals. 

“that really helped me get through school,” she declares passionately. “I felt I couldn’t be bothered with these peons in my class who were going nowhere - I knew what I was doing. I had purpose!”

And purpose has never left her. After she came to New York, she won an Alvin Ailey American Dance Company scholarship and studdied four months with the company. Afterward, she returned to Michigan for several months to attend the University of Michigan on a fine arts scholarship, only to find herself drawn to New York again as if by a magnet. She then spent a couple of years as part of the Pearl Lange Dance Company.

“From the minute you saw her, you knew she was marvelous material,” recalls the distinguished American dancer-choreographer Pearl lange. “She had a fir. Whatever she did, she had an imagination that could enlarge the moment.”

But dancing wasn’t enough. “I thought that was what I had always wanted,” Madonna says. “But you kill yourself for years and for what? There’s very little money, I wanted to sing!” (Lang also notes, “She wasn’t very disciplined. If she couldn’t get it right away, she had a hard time making herself work for somthing.”) Madonna began to audition for Broadway musicals. “My dance training gave me an incredible sense of performance onstage, enabling me to reach out to an audience. I have great control over my body, and it’s something I can use the rest of my life.”

Through a chance audition for a job as a back-up singer and dancer by a French singing star, she was discovered by a French recording company, brought to Paris, and groomed for stardom several years ago. Provided with an apartment, a maid and a chauffered car, she took dance and voice lessons and began learning French. But that executives that sponsored her were caught up in other projects; they urged her to think about her musical direction, but she didn’t have the slightest idea of what to do. She didn’t play an instrument, had never written a song - although she did begin writing lyrics for the first time for want of anything else constructive to do. Madonna’s frustration at the time still echoes in her voice. 

“I had been working like mad in New York, where there’s a rush-rush lifestyle; in Paris, they take breaks all day. They were taking me around to fancy restaurants, saying, ‘Look what we found in New York, isn’t she wonderful? We’re going to make her a star!’” But she began to feel like a bird in a gilded cage. “I turned into a rebellious little kid,” Madonna says. “Every time I complained, they gave me more money. But my idea of success is feeling I’ve accomplished something personally.” Her eyes glitter. “they weren’t making my needs their most important thing, and I really demanded that!”

Back to New York she went, where she soon fell in love with a guitar player with a group called Breakfast Club. Madonna began hanging around the band. She told her boyfriend, she recalls, “’You’ve got to teach me to play an instrument, to write songs. I want to be a singer!’ He just stuck a guitar in my hand and started me on basic chord progressions.” She began to write songs “about pain and lonliness and love, everything I was feeling.” Her feelings have always been close to the surface. “I was an incredibly emotional child,” she recalls. “Always crying. Stayed in my room and cried for hours. Now I have tragedies on different levels, but I still feel the same pain.”

Possessed with curiosity about everything connected with the music scene, Madonna secretly taught herself how to play the drums. When the band’s drummer quit, she offered herself in his stead. During one club date, she was permitted to take her guitar up front onstage and sing one song, I Was Born to Be a Dancer. It won her a standing ovation. With a taste of applause, there was no way Madonna would stay in back with the drums. Up front or nothing! She began working with Steve Bray, a musician she knew from Ann Arbor, and writing songs. During those days, she was living from hand to mouth, sleeping on a slab of foam rubber on the floor of a studio where bands rehearsed and equipment was stored.

“I had the drums for a headboard and the amplifiers at my feet,” she jokes. The bathroom was in a hall; there was no heat in the winter, She ate on a dollar a day - cheese popcorn, yogurt. “I wore the same thing every day,” she remembers. “I couldn’t wait to take a bath. Looking back, it was fun, but at the time, it was miserable. There were a lot of losers in that place - you’d hear them rehearse the worst music in the world, the same stuff over and over again. They never got better, and nothing was interesting. I knew I had to get out of there. I knew I was going to make it - and that’s what got me through!”

As she kept developing her own style, Madonna turned more and more fro rock and roll to the Motown rhythm-and-blues sound she had loved as a child - occassionally, listeners would think they were hearing a black singer. Through a friend who knew the music-club scene, she began hanging out with club dusc jokeys. She soon realized that record-company scouts frequented the clubs to check out new talent, and not too long afterward, she gave her demo tape to a deejay at a trendy New York club, Danceteria. “He said, ‘Wow, this is great!’” Madonna recalls. And Sire Records soon agreed. “That’s how I got my record deal,” she says. “On my own, without a manager or a band or any of the other things I thought I needed.”

That was three years ago, These days, Madonna lives in a loft in lower Manahttan. Her boyfriend is a record producer who travels frewquently. When he’s away and she’s not at work on her music, she reads, she watches movies, and goes to a health club to swim. Once a year, she goes back to Michigan. “I call my father,” she says, to whom she dedicated her first album, “but he could never really understand what I was doing. Things,” she adds, with a long, piercing look, “are better now.”

[wtffundiefamilies]

petersock

I mean how many people get a routine check up and realize they're in like stage 3 cancer?  A lot of people don't "feel" sick . . . And unfortunately by the time they get to a doctor, things have progressed pretty far :/   I'm glad she's never felt sick, but sadly that doesn't necessarily mean anything :/

Seriously.  I really hope  she doesn’t turn into one of those “I feel fine so I don’t need to see the doctor” folks for as long as she has insurance (I mean, I hope she never does, but also, realistically, a lot of people can’t or won’t be able to soon enough.)  I’m sure she IS fine though, or we’d have heard about it by now. 

But yeah, once you hit a certain age you suddenly know way too many people that that’s happened to :/ 

@threatre--bizarre

She's so fu kind arrogant

Well, it’s like Jesus said, “the arrogant shall inherit the - “ oh, wait, my bad...

@happymealwithlegs

Why are they matching?

My guess is because Izzy doesn’t yet know how embarrassing his father is.  Or possibly just can’t verbalize it yet.  I didn’t even notice they were dressed identically.   Sheesh.

@angelbynight 

I’m surprised they weighed him this way, but I guess that’s what happens when you don’t take your toddler to an actual pediatrician. They have scales for babies/toddlers to sit in and they normally want you to just have them wear their diaper to get the best result. Or maybe that’s just my son’s pediatrician’s office?

No clue but it seems like it would be hard to get a toddler to hold still for an accurate reading on a regular scale.   Of course unless those things hold three-year-olds I imagine Izzy being too big for one would be a real possibility.

@sienaeats

so wait, is he licensed to practice now?

I thought he would have had to wait until last year to reapply but I don’t know - I really am realizing I have no clue how ANY of this works because we saw him giving Michael a well-baby checkup in an episode ages back.  Also his practice shows up when you Google, so by that highly intellectual, reliable and intelligent method I can only assume that he is :P 

@redwhirlwind89

Ugh, I knew all of Jeremy's books would be Jesusy. I was hoping to see an in cognito copy of Twilight or something. Oh well, at least we know Jeremy can read. I still have doubts half the Duggar kids are functionally literate.

I get that God comes first, but also second, third, fourth..?  On the other hand, I’ve attempted to read Christian novels, and all of them have been as boring as plain oatmeal.  If my options were also Left Behind or nothing, I’d probably also choose nothing.  I guess they don’t take in any media that isn’t religious. 

        @ivankamarietrump

i get that they live in a small home (i live in a pretty small place too, we struggle with where to put our books too) but like is it common to put book shelves in closets? that seems so impractical to me

I guess they pack their stuff in around them?  If you’re going to make him put them away, why not in boxes?  I mean, I don’t want to give her ideas on how to make Jeremy’s life worse, but the shelving unit seems like a waste of space if they really have a space shortage.

      @redwhirlwind89

Okay, Jessa is clearly the female Jim Bob incarnate. Makes me wonder why Jill's his favorite and not the Jessa Dictator. But she's the one that, for some reason, was raised to get whatever she wants without argument...remember how Jana was forced to acquiesce anything of hers to Jessa is she wanted it? Why is Jessa the only female sibling to get that priviledge? No doubt it stuck...she's a spoiled brat now.

I never put it together - Jessa being bowed to as a kid and refusing to take no for an answer now - but you’re probably right.  And while she IS female JimBob, Jill is the obvious favorite - JimBob doesn’t like to be challenged, and Jill is the one to beg for the privilege of doing whatever he wants.  Which...is actually the husband Jessa found. 

@redwhirlwind89

Jessa is a spoiled brat. For some reason, it's how her parents chose to raise her...everyone bow before The Jessa.

In my experience it’s one of two things: laziness or not wanting to upset the child.  Since we’re talking Michelle and JimBob...I’m gonna say laziness.  It was probably easier to make the kids “get along” by giving in to whatever Jessa wanted. 

        @nothingelsemakessense

She even says the only reason he gets to keep one of his bookshelves out in the open is because "there's nowhere else to put it". Hey Jessa obviously it all fit before so maybe you're not as clever of a decorator as you thought if you can't make it all fit now.

That occurred to me as well.  OBVIOUSLY Jeremy had enough seating in his living room to suit him AND have space left over for the bookshelves.  Jessa really seemed to be designing the place with the comfort of future guests in mind over Jeremy’s.  Which...what a shock, I guess, since she’ll be one of them.

wonderfullywicked

Can we talk about how miserable Jinger looks in the last 3 images? Okay, she might be tired from traveling/moving things around but to me she looks like she'd rather be anywhere but where she is right now

I’m guessing she really wanted to/expected to be able to spend some time with Jeremy and is getting sick of being bossed around by her sister instead.

redwhirlwind89

None of them ever had any concept of realistic child development. If they did, they';d know why blanket training is not only abusive, but utter bullshit in theory.

I was kidding about the crawling thing but you’re not wrong.  The fact that she and Jill believe that their babies can understand “Treat others the way you want them to treat you” and behave accordingly speaks to that.  But also the idea that babies can have “self-control” to not leave a blanket to get a toy.  That...that’s not going to happen?  The baby isn’t developing self-control, the baby is scared of getting hit?  The baby isn’t sitting there thinking “I should wait to play with a toy until it’s directly handed to me and stay still because that’s the behavior my authority wants!”  The baby has learned that action A leads to painful stimulus B.

Also...WHY THE FUCK WOULD YOU HIT A BABY?!  How does that not go against every instinct a mother has?!  I’d really love to hit Michelle with a dose of truth serum and ask her that.

@sleepymothdust

Part of this is sad, but then I see them acting all ethnocentric about it just because it is a French word??? and I'm like, you don't deserve to know the joy that is a duvet!!

I sometimes wonder if Josiah is embarrassed by how little he knows and knows that the producers are humiliating him to be “funny.”  Or I guess it’s possible that he realizes how stupid it is and just gives goofy answers because he’s sick of it.

@nothingelsemakessense

My mom went by their house a week or two ago and I can see at least eleven cars in the picture she sent me, but it looks like there could be more behind the trees.

So much for their “reduced individual carbon footprints” - I wonder if JimBob realized he was boasting about “carpooling” with a bunch of little kids who couldn’t drive yet.

@happymealwithlegs

I was gonna say a full size would work, or even a futon. It's a guest room/office, right? No need for an actual bed.

A futon makes the most sense of anything.  Jinger and Jeremy should’ve hired you, dude.  Wait’ll you see (unless you watched the episode; in which case, my sympathies) how it looks once Jessa’s done with it.

[rilenerocks]

LABOR DAY PARADE – September, 2015 – an annual parade that goes right down our block every year. Our family unit of  four, enjoying the festivities in front of our daughter’s house which is across the street and slightly south of ours. 

A dictionary definition of remission is “a diminution of the seriousness or intensity of disease or pain; a temporary recovery.” This is where we were in September, 2015. What we also knew was this fact: There’s no current cure for stage 4 cancer. Still, it can be treated and managed. Most people with stage 4 cancer live with alternating periods of stable disease and disease progression. … For most, stage 4 cancer is likely to return, even if a person enters remission. Living within the bounds of these concepts was our task. The truth is, Michael’s initial diagnosis in 2012 placed him at stage 3A cancer which definitely left us with hope for a possible cure. Until November of 2013, while his cancer was following its insidious silent path through his bones, he was asymptomatic. Early that month, he had his first scan in a year – follow-up scans after a clear one subsequent to treatment were not in the protocols for his stage of disease. The shocking discovery of widespread bony metastatic disease and the stunning prognosis of 2-3 months survival, absent further treatment that we received on that fall day was shattering. We managed to pull ourselves together to push through the months of a powerful chemo cocktail, his only option, which again, as with his  30 rounds of head and neck radiation, was not as dreadful as what we’d anticipated. Except for fatigue, Michael was surprisingly robust. He was rapidly  hairless, but never nauseous, actually gaining 26 pounds. That may have been due to a supportive steroid supplement. After those 18 treatments, from May of 2014 to August 2014, life mostly went back to normal. Even after the cancer reappeared on his August scan, we got all the way to February, 2015 before the terrifying downward spiral of Merkel cell really began. In the previous chapter of this book, I described the rapid devolution of Michael’s fitness from February to June, when we felt certain that he was just this side of death. Then along came the last ditch treatment, Keytruda one of the new immunological drugs, given off-trial, outside the bounds of established protocols. Although experiencing profound fatigue as his immune system was freed by the drug and ramped up to attack his cancer, Michael’s conditioning came roaring back. Dr. Zhang was stunned by the recovery, referring to Michael as an exceptional responder. When he was scanned in June, his body was riddled with cancer. When he was scanned in September following only 4 treatments, 80% of his disease load had disappeared. The plan was to move ahead with treatments every three weeks. In the interim we needed to figure out how to live.

Michael was still struggling with poor appetite and sleep issues but trying hard to improve. All of us in our family are trying to appreciate the remarkable gift of time and trying to find balance. We wonder about what an average good day will be like. A day when Michael will wake up and just be ok. Do a chore, ride his bike, whatever. Maybe take a little trip. It’s hard to go there mentally. We are all living hour by hour. I sign up for a creative writing class to get into the world again and do something besides caregiving. I also find myself a therapist. I’m trying to attend to some of the emotional erosion of my internal core over the past few years. I can’t believe all the deaths, threats of death and personal losses of family members and friends in such a compressed time. I find myself worrying about my own health almost as much as Michael’s. I’m aware of what happens to people like me and decide to take advantage of this little respite space to work on improving myself. I’m keenly aware of the fine line I’m walking between hope and terror. Living from blood test to blood test, scan to scan, minute to minute. A headache, a sneeze, a random pain and insomnia for both of us is no picnic. Even sex and massage don’t relieve the stress. Any little thing portends disaster when you have an incurable disease in your body. We both try not to think about it every second. But it’s hard to avoid.

October brings a sudden resurgence of Michael’s appetite and more recovery of strength. We decide to take a short trip to Turkey Run in Indiana which isn’t too far from home. Getting away is a good thing. The weather is beautiful as are the fall colors. Neither of us is in shape to do intense hiking but we manage enough to feel accomplished. All the natural beauty has this edgy brightness to it as we are so keenly aware of how precious and amazing it is to still be anywhere together. If Michael’s health stays stable, we decide to plan more trips between treatment infusions and scans. I worry a lot about going broke but in the end, I believe that I won’t ever regret anything we do in this unexpected space, no matter what the economic consequences may be.Michael’s energy has returned enough so that he can ride his bike again. An unexpected gift. Right now that really resonates as we’ve just lost a friend to brain cancer. Her journey was considerably shorter than Michael’s which is still endlessly surprising. Only 11% of Stage 4 Merkel cell patients are still alive two years from diagnosis. We try to stay positive, but privately I remain on edge. My journal entries remind me of the fear.

November 4th, 2015

Right now I’m very worried about Michael’s cough. It isn’t all day and night but his lungs are a weak spot and pneumonitis at Grade 2 disqualifies him from Keytruda and requires steroids. If it doesn’t improve, treatment ends. Next week is another infusion. I guess there will be xrays then. The model we have to choose is that Merkel cell will kill Michael. No matter what the scan shows, the cancer is still there and will come back. The question is how long can we hold it off? What will come next if Keytruda stops? Endless anxiety.

  We took a quick trip to Chicago before the next scheduled infusion. Michael really wanted to go to Lincoln Park Zoo, a place he always loved. We realized it was where we had our first real date, after months of friendship that ultimately transitioned to lovers and life partners. Going there felt very sweet. We went to the Shedd Aquarium and ate Michael’s favorite Uno’s Pizza and at a deli which we’d always loved. So many exquisitely sharp memories, always accompanied by the unspoken question of whether or not we’d ever experience a time like this again. November 14th, 2015 was Michael’s 8th Keytruda infusion. Dr. Zhang was brimming with optimism that Michael would get a few years out of this treatment. I let myself enjoy that thought for awhile before swiftly moving back to neutral. I’m worrying because Michael’s had two toothaches in two months. Dental interventions are tough during cancer treatments. Anything invasive carries the threat of infection. I don’t like so many antibiotics in such a short time. I worry that they’ll wipe out his gut and I’ve read that immunological drugs need the right gut microbes to work properly. Of course I really know nothing but too much information feeds my anxiety.

Suddenly it seems, our third Thanksgiving since the diagnosis from hell is upon us. As I prepare all the family favorites, I find myself wondering who will eat the turkey legs. My mom always loved those best and started eating before everyone else as she usually took her insulin too early. It’s my first Thanksgiving without her. I decide that even though it’s Michael’s favorite holiday, I don’t want to host it again. It’s too much and I feel sad as the crowds get thinner.

November 29th, 2015

This Thanksgiving was very hard for me and is the last one I intend to do, whether Michael is alive or dead. It’s too much work and too sad as the crowd thins out.  I had a really hard time keeping it together. No mom, only one sibling left and Michael, swinging in the breeze. I can feel the loneliness of the years ahead. I’d rather be gone. Now he has gout. What will the scans show?The December scan is on the first of the month. The next day we meet with Dr. Zhang for results and the decision about whether to proceed with treatment number 9. Zhang is practically euphoric. The scan is clear with no evidence of disease except a spot which appears to be Michael’s aching tooth.  We’ve seen this before for the three months following chemo in 2014. That remission lasted a little over three months. But the infusion will happen. Dr. Zhang said his plan was to keep Michael on Keytruda for two years or until disease progression, whichever came first. So kind of stunned, we trotted off to the infusion suite, feeling basically elated. Michael got his IV and was soon sound asleep. I went out to the reception area to schedule the next appointments and to get copies of Michael’s labs which I’d been saving and comparing to each other since the beginning of his systemic treatments. When I got them I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. All three of his liver enzymes were extremely elevated to the point where treatment should have been withheld and steroids started. The Keytruda was already dripping into his arm. I quickly went to the nurse’s station and showed them the numbers. Within minutes, Zhang and his nurse cane running into the room – Zhang said he was upset and scared. He was so excited about the scan that he forgot to check the labs. He said we’d need to return the next day to rerun the liver enzyme test. I was hoping that perhaps all the Extra Strength Tylenol Michael was taking for his tooth pain was the culprit for the abnormal test results. Years earlier, while being treated for a herniated disk with lots of acetaminophen-based drugs, Michael’s liver enzymes had skyrocketed. His body didn’t like that drug. If the Keytruda turned out to be the issue, treatment would be halted, at least for awhile. From elation to the bottom of the tank again. We just can’t seem to get a break. Michael looked so well and his physical state was immeasurably improved. But you gotta have a liver. The next day, he was re-tested and the enzymes went down. The Tylenol was the problem. Technically we now believe Michael is truly in remission. We don’t know how long we get it but we’re so grateful.The rest of the month we swing on the pendulum of life. Michael sneaks out to jog which makes me crazy because of what his bones have been through this year. The doctors aren’t thrilled with this new exercise regimen and caution him to go slowly and for only a short distance. I am nagging him about this and his fluid consumption as his kidney function is a little off. I’m trying hard to remember that he is thrilled to be able to resume what he loves and that he’s always been less cautious than me. Also not as deep into the science as I am. I try keeping my thoughts to myself some of the time, never an easy task. Meanwhile we attend our grandkids’ end of the school year celebrations and prepare for our annual trek to Starved Rock. The woods and the canyons, the bald eagles and the rustic inn, topped off by a big indoor pool and a hot tub are balm for our exhausted selves.

When we return from that respite, December 23rd arrives – time for Keytruda infusion 10. At this appointment Dr. Zhang informs us that he’s leaving our health care facility in February. That means we’ll have had 3 oncologists in ten months. An unnerving situation, to say the least. I am still in contact with our very first second opinion doctor at the University of Michigan, Chris Bichakjian. I keep him updated on Michael’s situation and he is a steady resource for the latest developments in Merkel cell treatment. It’s still scary to go through so many local changes. Dr. Zhang suggests his friend, Dr. Zhou as our new oncologist. The thread of trust between Dr. Luyun and Dr. Zhang is now stretching even thinner and I’m prepared to keep doing my own research to help keep Michael alive. I know Dr. Zhou has never treated a Merkel cell patient. I have no idea how long we have in this remission space so the time to be working is now. On it goes. On Christmas we see the new Star Wars film with family in our usual tradition and go out for Chinese food afterwards. I am worrying incessantly about Michael’s tooth which he’s coping with, but we both know trouble is looming. He surprises me with a Roger Federer hat as my holiday gift.    I’m busy dreaming of making more memories by traveling. We got Chicago, Turkey Run and Starved Rock when we’d thought Michael would already have been dead and gone. Hardly the stuff of fantasy but so much more than we thought we’d have. I’m hoping we can slip in one more trip before things go south. I doubt we’ll ever get our dream of traveling to Greece, but I’d settle for one more chance to dip our toes into our beloved Gulf of Mexico. We spend New Year’s Eve with our family and friends at our usual Italian restaurant. What a kaleidoscopic year. One I’ll never forget. Heading into year 4 since our life was changed by one phone call. What’s next? 

The Realities of Remission – Part 1 – Chapter 11 – Be 278 LABOR DAY PARADE - September, 2015 - an annual parade that goes right down our block every year.

[knowwhynowhy-blog]

why i cried so much after my best friends wedding

My best friend got married in March and it was amazing(-ly horrible. Nobody ever tells you how hard it is to watch the person you’re closest to in the world be so incredibly happy while you yourself are miserable). (more on that later) 

At some point in late college, I had decided that I didn’t want a wedding. Too much pomp and circumstance for my modern sensibilities. (Although looking back, it might have been because I hadn’t been to any weddings where I was emotionally invested in the newlyweds.) The one good friend who got married during my college career actually eloped and had a reception a month later, so that was my model for a good wedding scenario. It seemed great—keep all the sappy stuff separate and then have a party with all your friends and family. The more I think about it though, I am definitely a very emotional person (double cancer hey-OH), so I think a sappy emotional mess of a wedding is right up my alley. 

I think we as young girls are inadvertently trained to fantasize about our wedding day. I know I definitely did, but for me, it was never about specific floral arrangements, dresses, or what my groom would be like. I dreamt about what I would ~feel~ on my wedding day. It used to be a sort of recurring daydream, and not actually about the wedding itself but about being married in general. But basically, there’s a bunch of sunlight and gauzy fabric attempting to cover open windows, and I’m in a kitchen, and there’s probably bread or cookies baking—so it either smells whole, nourishing, and yeasty, or like indulgent sweet vanilla because you know I’m gonna eat every one of those cookies. There’s an overarching feeling of just being so very loved. I can feel it in the air—the fact that I’m loved and that it’s important. 

Side note: I was reading a New York Times article about Amanda Chantal Bacon and the author described her as the “kind of woman who always seems backlit.” For some reason that really resonated with me. I’m not much into the celebrity wellness trend and I had no idea who Amanda Chantal Bacon was, but I was deep down a rabbit hole and that phrase just stuck with me. I’m definitely not the type of woman who *always* seems backlit, but I don’t think I would mind that description every once in a while. But that’s kind of what this feeling is to me, always being backlit in the best possible way. There’s a way to backlight people where you hide their identity, and then there’s a gentler version where you give them a golden glow. I want the golden glow version. That���s what I want my (potential) wedding to be like. 

If I’m really going to paint an emotional landscape of my best friend’s wedding, I need to give a little background. It was in March, so I was right smack in the middle of my second semester of graduate school. Which also meant I was right in the middle of my second semester teaching general chemistry to (mostly) college freshman... which was mostly a nightmare. I have nothing negative to say about the class or its administrators, but the grading workload alone was pure hell. I basically had no free time, and when I did take some time for myself, I always ended up feeling stressed or guilty because of the mountains of grading accumulating for when I was back in “work mode”. Not the healthiest mental state. Pair that with the fact that I also had the first draft of a grant proposal due soon for my own classes, and things are ripe for a stressed-out mental breakdown. Pile on top of that my chronic depression and it’s looking like a real party. 

Okay. So why did I have such a gut-wrenching evening? Because I love my best friend probably more than anything in the world and I was so so so happy for her. There’s a disconnect there though. Seeing her with her new husband and surrounded by all her family and friends broke my heart a little (or maybe a lot). We’d felt like an “us” for a while and this was the nail in the coffin that our undergrad “us” was becoming past tense. I mean, I’d already moved across the country and she was about to move and start a job, but I guess I didn’t realize that we were signing off on an era in both our lives because I wasn’t ready to let go of it yet. It’s hard to be forced to let go of something, especially when you’re literally watching someone else move on and you’re just...? 

Her wedding and reception were beautiful, and absolutely fine for me emotionally, but when I went to say goodbye, I started to break. How can I really say “goodbye” to someone that was so formative for me? How can I look at her, all beautiful and glowing and backlit in her wedding dress, and then go back to school and grading and know that none of that is happening for me? Maybe it just highlights how self-centered I am, that I could be at this amazing event designed to celebrate my best friend in the world, and I’m instead all of a sudden focused on how lonely I am? I’m looking back on this four months later and I just have this empty hole in my chest. Is this what adult friendships are like when you’re not exactly mentally healthy? You watch your friends have the lives you always dreamed about and then you leave? Or maybe I’m being too hard on myself. Some part of me felt like I was losing my best friend, I think that’s the empty hole I’m feeling now. She lives across the country with her husband and pets, and not with me. We only lived together for two years, why do I feel like I have this claim on her? I don’t. I shouldn’t. 

That’s what I had to realize the night she got married. I definitely cried a little when I actually said goodbye, but then I pulled myself together and we did the send-off and cleaned up, and then when I was driving back to the city with my other old roommate, I just lost it. I think I probably cried for maybe four hours straight that night. Through the Cookout drive through for some late-night snacks (I wasn’t driving, don’t’ worry), and then later on my roommate’s front porch while calling my mother. I think I just kept telling her how hard it was for me to see people that I love so much achieve such happiness while I’m living in a pigsty of depression myself. It was just kind of cementing the great depression-era image of myself where I’m chronically depressed. 

But I’m NOT chronically depressed. That’s just what it ~feels like~ when I’m depressed.  You get sucked into a self-fulfilling prophecy where you picture yourself hopeless, helpless, and alone, and then you end up that way. My therapist is trying to help me realize the power of my own language—if you describe yourself as an anxious person, then you probably will be anxious in the future because you’re setting it up for yourself. She also recommended I picture myself as someone who never had anxiety or depression. (What? How?) At the moment I couldn’t understand how to do that because my image of myself was completely intertwined with my diagnoses. 

I think I’m starting to get it now. Sort of how in the last Harry Potter book Voldemort (sorry, He-Who-Should-Not-Be-Named) had a taboo spell on his name so that he could tell when people said it and then find them? That’s my depression. If I’m having a bad day, I can either say, oh it’s just a bad day, no biggie, or I could say oh god, there’s that depression again, here it comes... and which do you think is easier to bounce back from? (Should I call my down state “you-know-what” instead of depression modes? There’s an idea)

But doesn’t that mean I’m just avoiding the problem? Yeah maybe. Who cares. Actually, I don’t think it does. Because I recognize that my past methods for dealing with this shit (excuse my language, but it’s utter shit) haven’t worked, so I’m ready to try something new. 

Back to the night at hand. Now that I’m removed from the situation and have had time to cope and heal and deal, the pain has diminished a little. Not completely, but I’m not sure that it will ever go away entirely because I miss my best friend with all my heart and soul. We shared so many shaping experiences, I don’t think I’ll ever let go of her and I hope she knows that. In no way am I upset that she’s married now, and if that’s what came across through this, I didn’t mean it. I just needed a way to express all the negative emotions along with the positive ones, and if I focused more on the negatives, that’s just something I need to work on. Trending towards positivity and away from negativity, that’s my goal (even though it’s definitely still in progress).

She’s now happily married and I’m happily living with my cat. I no longer have to teach, and in fact, teaching isn’t even on the horizon for at least two years. Suck on that, you-know-what. I’m doing great. And I can’t wait to visit. 

[shamelessmilkshakepanda-blog]

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Dental Insurances in California...?

I live in California. What is the difference between HMO vs PPO? Meaning there cost and coverage. I know that HMO has a very small selection of Dentists and PPO means you can pick from a larger selection, but I am asking about costy and coverage. I am in need of either Dentures, Bridge work, and eventually Dental Implants badly. 2 emergency dentists that I have seen have mentioned something about... if I have a PPO then they will cover everything, but when I ask them to explain, they tell me to look it up because they don't have time to explain it to me. I have tried to look it up, but I can't seem to figure out what they are talking about. What did the dentist mean by... they will cover everything? As in I will not have to pay anything out of pocket? One dentist even said that if I have a PPO then he can do the work while I wait for the insurance to start, pay him directly, then he will give me back my money when the insurance pays him. But what does that mean? All the PPO and HMO plans I see say that I would still have to pay 50% of the cost. I am unemployed so money is a huge problem, but with my current problems with my teeth, I can not go on interviews. What is the best Dental Insurance in California I can get to cover the most of the expenses of the work I need done??? Free clinics have a 1-2 year waiting list and won't handle problems like mine. Please help!!!""

BEST HOME INSURANCE for a town house in allwntown Pa in the USA?

What would be a good home insurance for my town house in allentown PA.. i am looking for something good and affordable ANY IDEAS

Car insurance cost need help?

my nephew is looking for a car and he wants to know how much insurance would cost. right now he is interested in an '88 Cadillac. he's 18 its his first car he lives in Indiana and didn't take a driving class. he also drives back and forth to school if that helps. how much should this cost him

Insurance estimate on a car?

So right now i have a 2010 nissan sentra SR and my insurance payment is 120$ a month. i have only used my insurance once, and that was comprehensive collision due to some terrible luck, but my cost did not go up. i want to get a 2008 nissan altima coupe 3.5. i am a 20 year old male, never had a ticket, no bad record or anything like that. would my insurance double if i was to make the switch or what would i be looking at? THanks!""

Will Hillary's Plans to End the War and Create an Affordable Health Plan Work?

Hilary thinks things through. She's pragmatic and capable of modifying things to work in an evolving world. She understands the give and take of a complex economy and her goal is to restore peace and prosperity; unity and pride. Whenever I hear an Obama supporter claim Obama will end the war or deliver a health insurance plan that works I think -- Don't bet on it. Obama tries to copy Hillary, but doesn't understand the complexities at the level she does, not does he seem consistent about anything. He's also more in the pocket of Special interests than Hillary -- though he denies that all the time -- not good. I have utmost confidence that Hillary is brilliant and dedicated and knows how to create solutions that work. The things she talks about, are what she will deliver, you can see that by observing her voting record. Hillary does what she says she will do, that's why I trust Hillary. Hillary '08""

""In Ontario, what do insurance companies look for when they ask for your drivers license?""

Just want to know - I wanted an insurance quote online and they asked for my driver's license number. I stopped right there - I was a bit uncomfortable (for reasons of privacy) and I wondered why they need it at this point in time - when I am only just shopping around for a quote. This has lead me to wonder what are all the info insurance companies get from your driver's license. Apart from verifying your name will they also need it to know your address, age, etc...? Will I be asked to submit a copy of the license to them when I eventually settle for an insurance company?""

""What would be the best insurance group to go in, if I am a first time car owner/driver?""

Hi, I am going to turn 17 in the autumn and I am looking for a first (used) car. But I am unsure about which insurance group is the best to go in? Someone told me I could get insured fairly cheaply on Group 5? I would like a reliable car, at the moment I am looking at Ford Focus, Volkswagen Polo, and Fiat Punto. I want it to be fairly new, and look good. I can spend up to 2000. Hope you can help

Help!Do you know about Nation Wide Insurance in France?

I have a class project about Nation Wide Insurance....If you know anything or any sites to look at please help.

Car insurance at 20 on average?

How much would car insurance be for me if i only have my licence for 2 months before i get a car and i am 20 years old?. The car would be minimum a 1.2 litre and maximum a 1.6 litre so what would a 1.2 litre, 1.4 litre and 1.6 litre cost me on average?.""

How much does car insurance cost per month?

Do you know how can I find out the cheapest car insurance without having to find an insurance broker? So far I got geico, progressive and all state quotes online but I find it expensive. I want prices from multiple insurers. Thanks.""

Car insurance prices?

i've just turned 17and i am wondering how much roughly will, lessons theory test and driving test all come too and insurance and also im a girl :)""

Why does high fico score lower car insurance?

Suze Orman just said pay off store credit cards and do not close them -this will lower your car insurance. Should my son open store credit cards and pay off the balance right away just so maybe his car insurance be lowered? And why does car insurance companies care about your credit card fico score anyways? He'll be 21 in a couple months ; hoping the insurance will decrease.

""People that live in miami only, car insurance problem :(?""

me and my boyfriend r trying to move out, its really necesary because my parents r moving far and if i go with them i cant see him again, anyways we have enough money, we both have ...show more""

Which auto insurance carrier is best?

I want to find a reliable company. I've looked into Geico and Allstate... just don't know how they handle claims and things. Any input?

Car insurance? Who is covered? Who is responsible?

Okay I had a question about car insurance... I am on my grandfather's car insurance plan- I live with my boyfriend. I believe I am the only one insured to drive the car....My boyfriend's mother and step-father don't have a car right now and often times ask to borrow my car- I've been letting them until it was brought to my attention that they may not be covered in that car? Does this mean I would be responsible for anything that happened? Or would they? If another car was at fault for the accident what would happen? Anyone know how this works?

How much do you pay for car insurance ? meow!?

tell me what type of car you drive its engine what type of fuel it burns size your age country male or female and what type of licence you have....full licence or provisional licence meow!    thank you in advance for your time meow! meow!!

How much does car rental insurance cost?

I am renting an economy car for one day through enterprise. Any idea what the average cost of rental insurance they offer is? I'll be calling them later on. Just wondering ahead of time what I should expect to pay, on average. Thanks""

Car Insurance and clueless teenagers?

Considering the kind of questions we are getting by 16 year olds regarding car insurance we could safely assume that they aren't ready to drive at all! Maybe raise the minimum age to 18? Might even save a few lives!

Insurance cost for jeep liberty?

I was thinking about getting a 2005-06 jeep liberty CRD (diesel) as my first vehicle, but wondering what insurance would cost. I'm 24 years old, male and live in a small town just north of Toronto and with only a G2 license.""

Full Coverage Insurance for financed vehicles ?

If i get financed for a car, do i have to pay full insurance for that car ? I live in NY. If yes, any idea how much full coverage would be for an 2004 acura tl ?""

Help with health insurance please?

Hi there, I was wondering what are some good affordable health insurance companies that will take pre existing conditions also? What other companies are there besides blue shield and medi cal.Thank you in advance.""

Where to get cheap car insurance?

my car insurance rates keep going back and forth and i don't have the money to pay 130.00 a month or 170.00 or whatever they decide to put it at. at first it was 83.15 then it jumped to 170.00 now it is 130.00 can someone please tell me where i can get insurance for at less than 100 dollars?

America - Are you legally required to get Car Insurance?

In the UK you can't go on the road without insurance, is this the same in america?""

English c european car insurance???

I am with tesco which doesnt offer euro car insurance so I'm wondering if theres a company that you can just buy cover for like a month or something without buying the full year?

How much would insurance on a gt mustang cost for a 17 yr old male?

How much would insurance on a gt mustang cost for a 17 yr old male?

What are some affordable life insurance policies for people with diabetes?

What are some affordable life insurance policies for people with diabetes? Looking for $400,000 in coverage.""

Best insurance company for full coverage?

What's the best insurance company that's pretty affordable?? I am financing a Toyota Camry (new) and need full coverage. I have a DUI on my record but have my license. I'm 21. =\

Opposing insurance asking for information?

2 weeks ago I got into a car accident, I've already: -Plead guilty and paid ticket online -Submit claim for insurance company -Had car towed for auto shop And today I receive in the mail, forms from what I can see is the opposing insurance company asking for my name, age, address, SS#, license plate, insurance #, passengers during accident, and a diagram to draw how the accident happened. Am I require to fill this out? I thought the 2 insurance companies got this kind of information from each other""

Insurance on a Audi tt?

I passed my test September 2013, I am 18 and for the car I currently have my car insurance is 1,250 or so. If I got an Audi tt that was a 2000 plate would the insurance be sky high?""

My health insurance paid for medical bills incurred from a car wreck. Can it come after me for reimbursement?

now I have received a settlement from the car insurance. Can the health insurance now collect the money it paid out . If so how long do they have to request the money form me?

What are good sites to get multiple car insurance quotes all at once so you can compare?

I don't mean individual insurance companies like geico or all-state, I mean where it can do the quotes for multiple companies at a time. Know any safe & legit websites? I don't want to put my personal info just anywhere.""

Where to go for car insurance?

I live in Missouri and plan on getting a new car soon. I need car insurance and would like to know what a good car insurance company would be. I'm single and live on my own and ...show more

How has the highly competitive and free market capitalism of Health Insurance Co worked for the last?

How has the highly competitive and free market capitalism of Health Insurance Co worked for the last? 70 years for Americans? I can only speak for Kanucks... the #1 most popular service the gov't provides for is Universal Health Care coverage, I think the #2 is a Timmies LgDD and a Maple Dipped..""

25 years old and buy life insurance?

Hi guys thanks for reading my problem. I am 22 years old, my husband just 25 years old. We've been married for six years, and has three children. His work on the site and my question is... 25 too early to look for to buy life insurance? If not, would you recommend any company? I extra novice, this will be our first look for life insurance for our family.""

Have you ever heard of a Car Insurance doing this?

Have you ever heard of this before: I know a person who has car insurance with Allstate and they claim the following reason for jacking up their prices every 6 months when you pay the bill for the next 6 months. The Reasons from them are: 1-Because since you have allstate and when anyone else that has allstate also in your area has an accident where them and someone else is involved this will make your payment go up. 2-All insurance companies do this also where if anyone not involved in an accident say at home and someone else with the same insurance company as you have, if they have an accident even if your at home when this happens your payments will go up. My Father has had direct for i don't know how long but a long time and every time someone has a wreck that has direct and he is not involved in it he still pays the same amount he did last time before the other direct insurance people have a wreck. Please also provide the name of your insurance company as I want to make a chart of how many people answered and what insurance company they currently have or had. Thank you I'd greatly appreciate the insurance info that's all I would like for the chart not your name.""

Costs of insurance for Young people 16?

Could you write how much do/did you pay/paid for your insurance now/before?? Also could you add you car engine etc..

How much does horse insurance cost?

How much would it cost to insure a 14 year old gelding quarter horse? He is 1,200 pounds and does jumping and dressage. I need to know this ASAP!!!""

Insurance on a '98 Mustang?

16yr old girl in Ohio, just wondering the cost before i try and sell the idea to my dad lol. Yellow w/ body kit. Help? :)""

Insurance settlement following motorcycle accident - GA?

The accident was ruled the other driver's fault. I had three pelvic fractures, dislocated tailbone, and fractured elbow. My health ins isn't paying, but the med bills have been reduced to the negotiated rate that my ins would normally pay. So my TOTAL OWED is about 2/3's of the initial total. Since pain & suffering is based on med bills times a multiplier, which amount will the ins co use? The larger total or the negotiated total? An attorney told me that this hospital is notorious for requesting the rest of the owed amount after the settlement has been reached, so obviously, I want the most money that I can get (and 13 weeks missed work!) Thanks""

What is a cheap car insurance company?

I am currently 18 years old. I am getting my licence on June 16th 2010. My car is under my dads name and currently it is uninsured, he wants me to insure the car under MY name because he will not be driving it anymore. What is the CHEAPEST insurance company for someone like me? I have to get the car insured before June 16th so that i can take my licence test. Thanks in advance.""

Will it cost a lot to start car insurance coverage again?

My boyfriend let his car insurance policy expire because his inspection ran out. He's working out of town, doesn't drive his car, and didnt have a chance to get it inspected.""

How much do you pay for car insurance ? meow!?

tell me what type of car you drive its engine what type of fuel it burns size your age country male or female and what type of licence you have....full licence or provisional licence meow!    thank you in advance for your time meow! meow!!

Where can i get the cheapest car insurance in the uk from im 17 thanks?

Where can i get the cheapest car insurance in the uk from im 17 thanks?

Can't afford healthcare but make too much for medicaid?

I'm so frustrated with how our country handles healthcare - it should be a basic right for all citizens, not a big business. Anyway, my boyfriend and I are full-time students currently living off of student loans and not working while we are in a very demanding program. We have no health insurance and our school does not have a health clinic. My boyfriend has been having severe gastrointestinal issues that are getting increasingly worse, he fears he may have bowel cancer or some horrible disease and wants to get checked out. We looked into medicaid and found out he does not qualify b/c he has more than 2k in the bank (all loan money), but we need that money to pay rent and eat and pay tuition and books. The cheapest health insurance we can find is $150 a month and doesn't include any extra testing (like a colonoscopy, etc.) So, what does your average middle american trying to get by and go to school to become a better person do? Should we just wait until he dies? Seriously. Rapists and murderers in prison are getting better healthcare than your average family. This place sucks, I want to move to Europe. Any suggestions on how we can get him affordable or free help before he dies?""

How much does insurance run for a 16 year old in North Carolina?

My Son gets his Licenses on August 17 of this year. So i am trying to figure out about how much its gonna run for him to have car insurance

What is the cost of general liability insurance for park rental?

need the insurance to cover a softball tournament

Should I go through insurance?

Hi, Recently, I parked my car at my apartment parking complex and someone had scraped my rear bumper. I'd like to get it fixed...but I'm not sure if I should go through my insurance or not. I have a 250 deductible for uninsured damage which I think applies here under my policy. Will the rates go up if I go through my insurance company for stuff like this? Because if so, I'll just shell it out of my own pocket. I'm not sure which way to go here. Thanks for helping me out.""

How much is car insurance for a 18 yr old?

Hi, this is probably going to sound stupid but just out of curiousity how much would car insurance be for an 18 yr old female driving an Nissan primera ( saloon) As a first car? Or any car for that matter? It's manual transmission, I have no clue about car insurance! As you probably can tell so how much would it cost on average?? Thanks!""

Average insurance on a Nisan Micra?

I'm not planning to buy a car for a few years but I would like to open an account saving up for insurance ect. so I am prepared. I'm planning to buy the nissan micra or a car of similiar price and size, its not extremely important to me. I would like to know a rough price for my insurance so I know what I'm working with. Please do not tell me to look on a car insurance website like go compare or confused.com, I have tried this but do not want to fill out a long form filled with questions I am unsure about. As I said, I'm not being exact, I just want a rough price. I am aged 17-22 and female. Any rough prices are welcome:)""

How much would my life insurance be?

If I get it as soon as I'm 18? I am also physically disabled, have epilepsy, visual cuts, and partially deaf. Would it be higher? Or lower since I'd be considered a vulnerable adult?""

How do I get two speeding tickets from 2006 to not show on my record for insurance? ?

I have two tickets from 2006. One in March and one in Dec. I took DD for the one in December yet they both show on my record when I try to purchase insurance. My quote went from $304 to $1000 for six months. This was Geico which was a little ridiculous if you ask me. Anyway I can get them to now show on my record?

How do I prove auto insurance to MN DMV?

My license is revoked and I need to prove to the state of Minnesota that I am insurable. I do not have a vehicle to insure right now, and don't understand why it would be necessary to get insurance for any period of time since I don't have a vehicle, but it is mandated by the state that I prove I have insurance. All the insurance companies I have talked to say that I need to have insurance for a year or the state will take my license again. Is there a way around this or is there an easier way to prove I am insurable without having to pay $1200 for a year of insurance when I don't even have a car?""

""Insurance problem, auto?

recently took a new job in Canada as a social worker and tried to add business coverage on my vehicle. I was told by my insurance company that this would be commercial because there is some risk I would have kids in the car. I called another company who told me it is just business. The initial company is cancelling my policy as they do not offer commercial insurance which they claim I require. They are not cancelling it for any negative reasons but will this cancellation show up and effect my rates even though it is not my fault. I tried to add the correct insurance but they did not have it so they are cancelling me. Other companies say I do not need commericial coverage so I should be ok with business but because there is a this cancellation I worry. I know if you have a cancellation for things like non payment or tickets it will impact you but what about this?

How much do you pay for car insurance?

Ok so im a 17 year old girl with a job that pays 600 a month. and i want a 2005 toyota matrix. its 7,000 but i know where to get it cheeper. but the question is how much do you pay . can you tell me your age and year of your car it would help me compare this whole thing alot better THANKYOU :)""

Insurance with learners permit in florida?

Ok i'm 15 years old and i just got my learners permit. I need to know if i need to have insurance in order to drive the car with my parents or i only need insurance when i get my license. Please try an answer with evidence and what not, thanks in advance""

Motorcycle insurance in ontario?

How much would Motorcycle insurance be for 16 year old male liveing in Ontario? I was thinking of getting an older ninja between the years of 1987 - 96. Just wondering how much it would be around . I tried an insurance quote online, but it didnt really turn out right. Thanks""

""Car Insurance, will be out of the country?""

I will be leaving the country for about 5-6 months. I dont want to pay my car insurance if I am not gonna be using my car. How should I approach this problem of mine? I dont want to cancel my insurance just for the few months i will be gone, then have to start from scratch when I come back. I'm happy with the rates I have now. So will my agent allow me to not pay anything for the time being, or atleast let me pay a small monthly fee just so I can keep my existing insurance policy?""

""I got a ticket for no insurance in Tucson, AZ!!!?""

My question is if I get insurance prior to court date can they dismissed the ticket or lower the cost? How many points is it to ur license and can I go to traffic school for it? Also it doesn't say the amount the ticket is, so I'm not sure what the cost even is.""

What does liability insurance give you?

I recently crashed my car and it is as of now being determined to be my fault. My dad pays for the insurance so I am not sure what we get under liability. We are with Farmers Insurance and I was just wondering what usually happens here. Do they give me anything if they determine I'm at fault? Does anyone have this insurance coverage with farmers? If so, can you please tell me what you get under it?""

Automobile Insurance Coverage?

My auto insurance payment was due 10/7/09 I paid it on 10//8/09 @ 11:30am had a car accident that evening am I covered?

How much insurance is too much insurance?

My husband has taken out a life insurance policy that costs him $250 Australian dollars per month. That is $3000 a year. We are in out mid 40's with no dependents. He is an electrician by trade however and I am limited in the kind of work that I can do due to a anxiety disorder. he wants to make sure I am OK if something happens to him, however I think it is a lot of money every month. What do you think?""

What do you mean by car insurance quotes?

What do you mean by car insurance quotes?

Car insurance with child?

Do you have to get different car insurance to have a child in the car?

Young Drivers Car Insurance In London?

Hey there, i live in a area that gets me pretty high quotes for an 18 year old.. Well my dad's purchasing a car and i asked if he could insure me on it too and he agreed to this but i've gotta find a decent insurer first.. I mean i'm getting quotes such as 3,000 a year that's pretty high for a 01 plate corsa.. I was just asking for people with experience on maybe any ways i can reduce this price.. Maybe a really cheap insurer you know? or any help would be appreciated if you know the situation i'm in. Thanks!!""

How come I can't medical or insurance ???!?

Hello I'm a 20 year old and I live on my own. I use to have medical Owen I was under 18 && lived with. Y moon but now I'm 20&& live on my own. I tried applying for medical and I got denied because I make like 100 more than the limit. Where can I can I apply for a low healthy plan . I do live on my own and have bills to may. It I wanna be healthy. Someone please help no d mb answes (you don't look cool) I live in California San Diego.

What happens when you don't pay cancellation costs for car insurance?

Un-named popular car insurance provider added my 22-yr old son to my policy without my permission. Said it was done internally, couldn't take him off policy. So I canceled. I should say that before I called to cancel this policy, I started a new policy w/ a local company. Progressively, I received a bill for cancellation costs of $120.00. What happens if I don't pay?""

How much is car insurance?

I know it depends on a lot of things, but whenever I mention me getting my license, they have the same excuse over and over... So what's an idealistic amount for a young teen w/ 3.0+gpa and a sports car be? In california.""

How much do you pay for car insurance ? meow!?

tell me what type of car you drive its engine what type of fuel it burns size your age country male or female and what type of licence you have....full licence or provisional licence meow!    thank you in advance for your time meow! meow!!

https://www.linkedin.com/pulse/can-car-insurance-companies-pull-your-without-notifying-sharpe/"

[tihemme]

The Summer My Brilliant Mother Blew Her Own Mind - Part 1

August whatever, the last batch of students graduated Friday, and I’m broke. I’ve hunkered down for a two-week forced vacation, throughout which I intend to stave off next year’s inevitable financial crisis by drafting yet another television series proposal - but then my mother calls. “What the hell is going on?” And now I’m pissed at my brother. I told him yesterday over the phone that I’d had tests, and had failed them, that I needed to redraft my will. Would he be my executor? And no, I wasn’t sure how sick, I wouldn’t know for a few months, and no, I wasn’t planning on dying anytime soon, but as is, my ex-fiance from before my ex-husband would inherit everything, including an old set of vinyl I gave up in my 30s, and a poster collection I left in storage fourteen moves ago. And maybe my youngest daughter, God help him. “Don’t tell Mum or Dad.” “I won’t. But you should.” “I will.” “It’ll be worse if you don’t.” “I know.” “So, when?” “When there’s something to tell, T; I don’t want to worry them.” “I’m going to kill him.” “Kill who?” “T. I told him not to worry you.” “About what?”

Dammit!  This is my mother. She always does this. 

“T didn’t say anything?” “I haven’t talked to your brother in weeks.” Of course she hasn’t. “So, spill it. What’s wrong?”

Trapped, I tell her. Struggling to keep my shit together, I pace, voice wavering, confused dog at my heels, getting underfoot. I tell her all about it, and how I need her not to worry. And of course, I’m terrified, and she’s not an idiot. Hearing my mother’s voice, I fall to fucking pieces, and she takes over. As she rationalizes about cysts and lumps and all this progress that’s been made in the field of breast cancer research, I bite hard into my knuckles to stifle violent, body-wracking sobs.

“This is ridiculous. You need to be here,” she says. “You need to take a break, and be here.”

I have no one else. This bothers her.  My best friends are all colleagues. I doubt I register in the top 20 of any of their friends lists, but this is of no concern to any of us. I love them anyway. To keep things simple, I call them my “best-friend/colleagues.” The slash here acts as a kind of connective tissue; it connects the two concepts for me, while creating a safe barrier for them - like a tissue blocking snot. With it, they can keep calling me “colleague” while I call them “best friends,” and we each know who we’re talking about in the relative safety of our social-slash-work environment. 

I can shoot the shit with the best of them (which is all of them) about anything, but this. I can’t tell any of them about this. 

One of my best-friend/colleagues lost his wife two years ago, and cannot escape the vortex of grief. I worry for him every day, especially on the anniversary of her passing, which he marks monthly. I did the same when I lost my first true love at 20, followed weeks later by our premature stillborn baby. Twenty-six years on, I still feel that ache, so I think maybe I almost understand. He gets so sad so easily, and I’m honoured he trusts us so openly with his pain, but it’s also worrisome. Sometimes I wonder how he grieves at home, and it’s an unbearable thought. If this best friend found out his colleague was sick with the same thing that robbed him of his wife, I think he might be triggered. I suspect he’d need to insulate, and isolate, and so keep his distance, and that’s also unbearable to imagine. 

Also, the one time I offered to do something with him socially - I think it was to see a film - he delicately suggested I look into dating apps. So no, I will not be telling him. 

My absolute best-best-friend/colleague doesn’t exactly know he’s my best-best friend, but I don’t mind. He’s always appreciated my weird sense of humour, and doesn’t seem bothered when we happen to be scheduled to work on the same days. When we get the chance, we talk, a lot - well, I do, and he responds - but there’s an awful lot I don’t tell him. Like how he’s the only non-relative I’m leaving anything to in my redrafted will. Or how much I look forward to seeing him each week, and that when I don’t, it occurs to me to miss him. But because I’m still not convinced he hasn’t added me to his Restricted list on Facebook, I worry that if he did know either of these things, he’d shut me down completely, and without saying a word. Like, colleague/friendly ghost me. Or recommend I check out dating apps, too. 

So no damn way am I telling him about my boob. 

My female best-friend/colleagues are all my age or slightly older, and each of us is going through our own shit right now. I could tell them, I guess, but I don’t. You see, this mid-life gynoshittery is a contest none of us wants to participate in, let alone win. Don’t get me wrong, menopause and endometriosis and the national average pay gap are all over the staff room table when it’s all women present, but not breasts.

If you knew less about me, perhaps you’d suggest I should have more friends, like maybe outside work. 

I’ve tried. 

I used to ref roller derby. So long as you’re concussion-and-fracture free, a tighter community is hard to find. Before that, I was in the army. Those relationships ended not much differently than derby’s did, if far more violently.

In the intervening years, I had a husband. He didn’t approve of many of my friends, unless they were our friends - by which I mean, his friends - due to his belief that regardless of the age, marital status or gender of any of my own, I had to be sleeping with them. So, to save us all the embarrassment of his persistent public confrontations on the matter, I opted out of having any friends. For twenty years.

So anyway, yeah - my colleague/friends really are all I have. 

There is no one else.

Mum’s text reads, “You’br stil craming out, right?” I’ve been thinking about it, for sure, and I miss her, but I’m not sure I can justify it. I have a massive application deadline for the end of the month. Plus, these next two weeks off aren’t exactly voluntary. I’m not getting paid, and money’s tighter than it’s been in a couple of years. And she’s in bloody Saskatchewan. 

“There’r b rst beef anf Yorkshire pddinh.” 

Okay, just to be clear, no one makes gluten free Yorkshire pudding quite like my stepfather does. Think bannock in a gravy bowl. And I can tell, this last push is from him.

“Oh, well, okay then - I’ll be there Wednesday,” I joke back, still not committed. It’s Sunday morning. “Ok, we br reedy.”

My mother is a PhD. She taught upper-level anthropology courses for twenty years. So she takes proofreading very, very seriously, even with texts. But since her house almost completely burned down this past March, I’ve noticed she’s been letting things slide. And I mean, a lot.

I turn to my youngest, who’s bitched all summer about us not camping, not really taking a holiday, no promised one-on-one time without siblings and bickering. 

“Wanna go see Nan?” “What-? When?” “If we pack now, we can leave first thing. Camp a couple of nights on the way, and get there for Wednesday.” 

It’s fire season - the worst one yet - and I’m still not feeling well, so I clarify that by “camp,” I mean “sleep in the van and eat take out along the way.” My daughter’s kind of camping, but this isn’t exactly fair notice. 

“There’ll be Yorkshire pudding.”

Enough said. We start packing in the late afternoon, and I’m in the middle of drawing up a list of documents I’ll need to pull out of my ass the second I get back to hit that deadline, plus a list of groceries to cut costs for meals for the trip, when I stop suddenly, hit by a strange wave of anxiety. I look at my daughter. 

“Hey. Wanna leave tonight?”

Now I’m freaking myself out. My perfectly rational fear of animals darting out onto highways after dark means I have never, ever left for a multi-day drive any later than noon on the first day. So I don’t understand it. But I don’t want to argue with it. I need to leave now, and for once, my daughter shares my sense of urgency. 

We’re on the road within the hour, listing off all the shit we’ll need to grab along the way, calling the bank to add up the balances - we seriously can’t afford this right now, it’s ridiculous - realizing this is a mistake, and knowing, somehow, that it’s not. 

By the time we hit Merritt, the sun’s down. We pit stop at a gas station in Kamloops, and run into a motorcyclist who’s run into a deer. I text my best-best friend to tell him. His ex rides a bike, and sideswiped a moose last week - only she wasn’t on her bike at the time, but in a compact car that is now slightly more compact, but thankfully not bent in half like this biker was, or his bike. 

As soon as I hit Send, I wonder vaguely if my random texts outside work might annoy my bbf/c, and vow to not bother him anymore.

Pulling into Salmon Arm, we see the aftermath of another fresh kill. Whatever it is is large and hairy, and splayed out in the road in many more pieces than nature intended. It’s 11 PM, and I decide to stop for the night at nearby Yard Creek. The kid and I look up through the cracked windscreen at stars we haven’t seen since last year, and zzzzfoooph, spot a meteor. Briefly entertained, we crawl into the back of the motorized tent, and are asleep within moments. 

I wake at 6:30 to the lilt of morning birdsong, and a familiar dull throbbing pain deep in my left breast. 

The kid wants to sleep in, but I’m getting restless, so fire up the old Dutch oven. She chases me all the way from the van to the outhouse. Now both wide awake, we pee, brush our teeth, and go.

We stop for breakfast at Denny’s in Revelstoke, almost too tired to care about cross-contamination. My daughter orders her usual, and our waitress - trying to be helpful - recommends something from the 55+ menu for me. 

Do I really look so much older than I feel? 

My daughter assures me the waitress is just saving us money. Build-your-own breakfasts add up fast, and this way, it’s half the price. Fine. Whatever. I pick at my stingy eggs and bacon with wheat-free toast, and call Mum to tell her where we are. 

“What’s your ETA, then?” I have no idea. “8:30,” I say. “Will you push through, or camp again?” I just said... “Push through,” I answer. “Call me when you get to the junction at Maple Creek,” she says, “so Grrpa can put the pizza on.”

Grrpa is my stepdad. 

We’re on the road again by 7:45, but it feels later. Golden, Banff, Calgary for a pee break and to gas up. Naturally, there’s a BC fruit stand in the parking lot.  “Text Nan and tell her 7:30.” Brooks, Medicine Hat, the last exit to Drumheller, the needle locked on 130 all the way. I’ve been highway driving for almost ever, and rarely exceed 120.  “Text Nan and tell her 6:30.” We enter Saskatchewan, and I realize that even with the time change, we’ll be there by 5:30 at the latest.

Mum waits until the exact moment we blast through the Maple Creek junction to pull her next magic trick. 

“Text Nan and tell her -” The phone rings. 

“Where are you now?” “Jesus, Mother, are you fucking psychic?” 

It’s complete rhetoric. I expect her to say, “Well, we did just put the pizza on,” or “So, while you’re in Maple Creek,” or “Welcome to Saskatchewan; what’d you do, FLY?”

Except -  “… What?” 

She doesn’t get it. 

“Where are you?”

My daughter and I share a look. Something’s wrong. 

“We’re blas - just driving past Maple Creek now. We’ll be there in 30 minutes.”

“Oh. Okay. I’ll tell Denis. We’re having pizza. Is that okay?” Denis is my stepdad, but I don’t call him that. I’ve never called him that. He’s Grrpa, even to me. 

“Okay.”

Something’s really wrong.

“See you soon.” She hangs up, and my daughter and I don’t say a word as I edge over 140. I can’t say what it is, but it’s urgent, and horrid and heavy and late. For what, I don’t know. But it’s all I can think. We’re late, we’re so late. We’re too late. 

We’re too late.

[flashhdtv]

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Title : Real:Time:Love Episode Title : Episode 8 Release Date : 02 Oct 2020 Runtime : 15 minutes Genres : Comedy , Drama , Mini-Series , Romance Networks : VLIVE

Real:Time:Love 3

Real Time Love sitcom-like web drama that follows the honest, curious stories of 18-year-olds.

Show Info

Web channel: Korea, Republic of Naver TVCast (2019 - now) Schedule: Fridays at 20:00 (15 min) Status: Running Language: Korean Show Type: Scripted Genres: Drama Comedy Romance Episodes ordered: 8 episodes

With dozens of films genre being released each year, a typical one that gets overlooked by the more popular ones (action, drama, comedy, animation, etc.) is the subgenre category of religious movie. These films (sometimes called “faith-based” features) usually center around the struggles and ideas of a person (or groups) identity of a religious faith, which is, more or less, has a profound event or obstacle to overcome. While not entirely, the most commonplace religious type movies focus on the religion of Christianity, sometimes venturing back into the past in cinematic retelling classic biblical tales, including famed epic films like Ten Commandments and Ben-Hur (the original 1959 version) to some more modern endeavors from Hollywood like Risen, The Young Messiah, and Paul, Apostle of Christ. Other Christian “faith” films finds a more contemporary setting to tell its story, with some being “based on a true-life account” like the movies Unconditional, Heaven is Real, Unbroken, I Can Only Imagine, Indivisible, and Miracles from Heaven, while others might find inspiration from literary novels / fictionalized narratives like The Shack, Overcomer, War Room, and Same Kind of Different as Me. Regardless, whether finding inspiration from true life, references from the bible, or originality, these movies usually speaks on a person’s faith and the inner struggle he or she has within or one society’s views, spreading a message of belief and the understand of one’s belief. Now, after the success of 2018’s I Can Only Imagine, directors Andrew and Jon Erwin (the Erwin Brothers) and Lionsgate studios release the 2020 faith-based film / music biopic feature I Still Believe. Does the film walk a fine line between its religious aspects and cinematic entertainment or does the movie get entangled in its own faith-based preaching?

THE STORY

Its 1999 and Jeremy Camp (K.J. Apa) is a young and aspiring musician who would like nothing more than to honor his God through the power of music. Leaving his Indiana home for the warmer climate of California and a college education, Jeremy soon comes across one Melissa Henning (Britt Robertson), a fellow college student that he takes notices in the audience at a local concert. Falling for cupid’s arrow immediately, he introduces himself to her and quickly discovers that she is attracted to him too. However, Melissa holds back from forming a budding relationship as she fears it will create an awkward situation between Jeremy and their mutual friend, Jean-Luc (Nathan Parson), a fellow musician and who also has feeling for Melissa. Still, Jeremy is relentless in his pursuit of her until they eventually find themselves in a loving dating relationship. However, their youthful courtship with each other comes to a halt when life-threating news of Melissa having cancer takes center stage. The diagnosis does nothing to deter Jeremey’s love for her and the couple eventually marries shortly thereafter. Howsoever, they soon find themselves walking a fine line between a life together and suffering by her illness; with Jeremy questioning his faith in music, himself, and with God himself.

THE GOOD / THE BAD

Sorry if this sounds a bit familiar pieces from my review of I Can Only Imagine, but it definitely says what I feel about these films. While I am a devout Christian (not a crazy zealot or anything like that) for my bases of religion and my outlook beliefs in life, I’m not a huge fan of the “faith-based” feature films. That’s not to say that they’re bad or that I find them deplorable to the other more popular movie genres out there, but sometimes they can a bit preachy and corny / honky in their religious overtones and overall dramatic direction. Personally, I like the more biblical tales that Hollywood as put over, with Cecil B. Demile’s The Ten Commandments and William Wyler’s Ben-Hur; both of have proven to stand the test of time within filmmaking. Of course, Hollywood’s recent trend of put out more “remakes” movies puts an overcast on those biblical epics with 2014’s Exodus: Gods and Kings and 2016’s Ben-Hur; both of which failed to capture a sense of cinematic integrity and had a messy religious outlook in its zeal aspect. Of late, however, Hollywood as retreated more into contemporary pieces, finding narratives that are, more or less, set in a more “modern” day and age to their Christian-faithful based features. As I mentioned above, some have found success in their literary forms (being based on a book and adapted to the big screen), but most derive their inspiration from true life accounts, translating into something that’s meant to strike a chord (with moviegoers) due to its “based on a true story” aspect and nuances. Again, some are good (as I liked Unbroken and The Shack), while others kind of become a bit too preachy and let the religious overtures hamper the film, making them less-than desirable to mainstream audiences or even members of their own faiths. Thus, these religious-esque films can sometimes be problematic in their final presentation for both its viewers and in the film itself; sometimes making the movie feel like a TV channel movie rather than a theatrical feature film. This brings me around to talking about I Still Believe, a 2020 motion picture release of the Christian religious faith-based genre. As almost customary, Hollywood usually puts out two (maybe three) films of this variety movies within their yearly theatrical release lineup, with the releases usually being around spring time and / or fall respectfully. I didn’t hear much when this movie was first announced (probably got buried underneath all the popular movies news on the newsfeed). My first actual glimpse of the movie was when the film’s movie trailer was released, which looked somewhat interesting to me. Yes, it looked the movie was gonna be the typical “faith-based” vibe, but it was going to be directed by the Erwin Brothers, who directed I Can Only Imagine (a film that I did like). Plus, the trailer for I Still Believe premiered for quite some time, so I kept on seeing it a lot of time when I went to my local movie theater. You can kind of say that it was a bit “engrained in my brain”. Thus, I was a bit keen on seeing it. Fortunately, I was able to see it before the COVID-19 outbreak closed the movie theaters down (saw it during its opening night), but, due to work scheduling, I haven’t had the time to do my review for it…. until now. And what did I think of it? Well, it was pretty “meh”. While its heart is definitely in the right place and quite sincere, I Still Believe is a bit too preachy and unbalanced within its narrative execution and character developments. The religious message is clearly there, but takes too many detours and not focusing on certain aspects that weigh the feature’s presentation. As mentioned, I Still Believe is directed by the Erwin Brothers (Andrew and Jon), whose previous directorial works include such films like Moms’ Night Out, Woodlawn, and I Can Only Imagine. Given their affinity attraction religious based Christian movies, the Erwin Brothers seem like a suitable choice in bringing Jeremy Camp’s story to a cinematic representation; approaching the material with a certain type of gentleness and sincerity to the proceedings. Much like I Can Only Imagine, the Erwin Brothers shape the feature around the life of a popular Christian singer; presenting his humble beginnings and all the trials and tribulations that he must face along the way, while musical songs / performance taking importance into account of the film’s narrative story progression. That’s not to say that the movie isn’t without its heavier moments, with the Erwin, who (again) are familiar with religious overtones themes in their endeavors, frame I Still Believe compelling messages of love, loss, and redemption, which (as always) are quite fundamental to watch and experience through tragedy. This even speaks to the film’s script, which was penned by Erwin brothers playing double duty on the project, that has plenty of heartfelt dramatic moments that will certainly tug on the heartstrings of some viewers out there as well as provide to be quite an engaging tale of going through tragedy and hardship and finding a redemption arc to get out of it. This is especially made abundantly clear when dealing with a fatal illness that’s similar to what Melissa undergoes in the film, which is quite universal and reflective in everyone’s world, with the Erwin Brothers painting the painful journey that Melissa takes along with Jeremy by her side, who must learn to cope with pain of a loved one. There is a “double edge” sword to the film’s script, but I’ll mention that below. Suffice to say, the movie settles quickly into the familiar pattern of a religious faith-based feature that, while not exactly polished or original, can be quite the “comfort food” to some; projecting a wholesome message of faith, hope, and love. Personally, I didn’t know of Jeremy Camp and the story of he and Melissa Henning, so it was quite a poignant journey that was invested unfolding throughout the film’s proceedings. As a side-note, the movie is a bit a “tear jerker”, so for those who prone to crying during these dramatic heartfelt movies….get your tissues out. In terms of presentation, I Still Believe meets the industry standard of a religious faith-based motion pictures. Of course, theatrical endeavors like these don’t really have big budged production money to invest in the film’s creation. Thus, filmmakers have to spend their money wisely in bringing their cinematic tales to life on the silver screen. To that effect, the Erwin Brothers smartly utilized this knowledge in the movie’s creation; budgeting the various aspects of the background and genetic theatrical make-up that feel appropriate and genuine in the film’s narrative. So, all the various “behind the scenes” team / areas that I usually mention (i.e. production designs, set decorations, costumes, and cinematography, etc.) are all relatively good as I really don’t have much to complain (whether good or bad) about them. Again, they meet the industry standard for a faith-based movie. Additionally, the musical song parts are pretty good as well. As mentioned, I really didn’t know anything about Jeremy Camp, so I couldn’t say what songs of his were good, but the songs that are presented in the film were pretty decent enough to certain highlight points throughout the movie. Though they are somewhat short (assuming not the whole song is being played), but still effectively good and nice to listen to. Might have to check out a few of the real songs one day. Lastly, the film’s score, which was done by John Debney, fits perfect with this movie; projecting the right amount of heartfelt tenderness in some scenes and inspirational melodies of enlightenment in others. Unfortunately, not all is found to be pure and religiously cinematic in the movie as I Still Believe gets weighed down with several major points of criticism and execution in the feature. How so? For starters, the movie feels a bit incomplete in Jeremy Camp’s journey. What’s presented works (somewhat), but it doesn’t hold up, especially because the Erwin Brothers have a difficult time in nailing down the right narrative path for the film to take. Of course, the thread of Jeremy and Melissa are the main central focus (and justly so), but pretty much everything else gets completely pushed aside, including Jeremy’s musical career rise to stardom and many of the various characters and their importance (more on that below). This also causes the film to have a certain pacing issues throughout the movie, with I Still Believe runtime of 116 minutes (one hour and fifty-six minutes) feeling longer than it should be, especially with how much narrative that the Erwin Brothers skip out on (i.e. several plot chunks / fragments are left unanswered or missing). Additionally, even if a viewer doesn’t know of Jeremy Camp’s story, I Still Believe does, for better or worse, follow a fairly predictable path that’s quite customary for faith-based movie. Without even reading anything about the real lives of Jeremy and Melissa prior to seeing the feature, it’s quite clearly as to where the story is heading and what will ultimately play out (i.e. plot beats and theatrical narrative act progression). Basically, if you’ve seeing one or two Christian faith-based film, you’ll know what to expect from I Still Believe. Thus, the Erwin Brothers don’t really try to creatively do something different with the film…. instead they reinforce the idealisms of Christian and of faith in a formulaic narrative way that becomes quite conventional and almost a bit lazy. There is also the movie’s dialogue and script handling, which does become problematic in the movie’s execution, which is hampered by some wooden / forced dialogue at certain scenes (becoming very preachy and cheesy at times) as well as the feeling of the movie’s story being rather incomplete. There’s a stopping point where the Erwin Brothers settle on, but I felt that there could’ve more added, including more expansion on his music career and several other characters. Then there is the notion of the film being quite secular in its appeal, which is quite understandable, but relies too heavy on its religious thematic messages that can be a bit “off-putting” for some. It didn’t bother me as much, but after seeing several other faith-based movies prior to this (i.e. I Can Only Imagine, Overcomer, Indivisible, etc.), this particular movie doesn’t really rise to Cursed in Love and falls prey to being rather generic and flat for most of its runtime. As you can imagine, I Still Believe, while certainly sincere and meaningful in its storytelling, struggles to find a happy balance in its narrative and execution presentation; proving to be difficult in conveying the whole “big picture” of its message and Jeremey Camp’s journey. The cast in I Still Believe is a mixed bag. To me, none of the acting talents are relatively bad (some are better than others…. I admit), but their characterizations and / or involvement in the film’s story is problematic to say the least. Leading the film’s narrative are two protagonist characters of Jeremy Camp and Melissa Henning, who are played by the young talents of K.J. Apa and Britt Robertson respectfully. Of the two, Apa, known for his roles in Riverdale, The Last Summer, and The Hate U Give, is the better equipped in character development and performance as the young and aspiring musical talent of Jeremy Camp. From the get-go, Apa has a likeable charm / swagger to him, which make his portrayal of Jeremy immediately endearing from onset to conclusion. All the scenes he does are well-represented (be it character-based or dramatic) and certainly sells the journey that Jeremy undergoes in the movie. Plus, Apa can also sing, which does lend credence to many of the scene’s musical performance. For Robertson, known for her roles in Tomorrowland, Ask Me Anything, and The Space Between Us, she gets hampered by some of the film’s wooden / cheesy dialogue. True, Robertson’s performance is well-placed and well-mannered in projecting a sense of youthful and dewy-eyed admiration in Mellissa, especially since the hardships here character undergoes in the feature, but it’s hard to get passed the cringeworthy dialogue written for her. Thus, Robertson’s Melissa ends up being the weaker of the two. That being said, both Apa and Robertson do have good on-screen chemistry with each other, which certainly does sell the likeable / loving young relationship of Jeremy and Melissa. In more supporting roles, seasoned talents like actor Gary Sinise (Forest Gump and Apollo 13) and musician singer Shania Twain play Jeremey’s parents, Tom and Terry Camp. While both Sinise and Twain are suitable for their roles as a sort of small town / Midwest couple vibe, their characters are little more than window dressing for the feature’s story. Their screen presence / star power lends weigh to the project, but that’s pretty much it; offering up a few nuggets to bolster a few particular scenes here and there, which is disappointing. Everyone else, including actor Nathan Parsons (General Hospital and Nadia: The Secret of Blue Water) as musical talent and mutual friend to both Jeremy and Melissa, Jean-Luc Lajoie, young actor Reuben Dodd (The Bridge and Teachers) as Jeremy’s handicapped younger brother, Joshua Camp, and his other younger brother, Jared Camp (though I can’t find out who played him the movie), are relatively made up in smaller minor roles that, while acted fine, are reduced to little more than just underdeveloped caricatures in the film, which is a shame and disappointing.

FINAL THOUGHTS

The power of faith, love, and affinity for music take center stage in Jeremy Camp’s life story in the movie I Still Believe. Directors Andrew and Jon Erwin (the Erwin Brothers) examine the life and times of Jeremy Camp’s life story; pin-pointing his early life with his relationship Melissa Henning as they battle hardships and their enduring love for one another through difficult times. While the movie’s intent and thematic message of a person’s faith through trouble times is indeed palpable as well as the likeable musical performances, the film certainly struggles to find a cinematic footing in its execution, including a sluggish pace, fragmented pieces, predicable plot beats, too preachy / cheesy dialogue moments, over utilized religious overtones, and mismanagement of many of its secondary /supporting characters. To me, this movie was somewhere between okay and “meh”. It was definitely a Christian faith-based movie endeavor (from start to finish) and definitely had its moments, but it just failed to resonate with me; struggling to find a proper balance in its undertaking. Personally, despite the story, it could’ve been better. Thus, my recommendation for this movie is an “iffy choice” at best as some will like (nothing wrong with that), while others will not and dismiss it altogether. Whatever your stance on religious faith-based flicks, I Still Believe stands as more of a cautionary tale of sorts; demonstrating how a poignant and heartfelt story of real-life drama can be problematic when translating it to a cinematic endeavor. For me, I believe in Jeremy Camp’s story / message, but not so much the feature.