Old
221 Juniper Lane. A two story house painted like the inside of a creme-brulee. Old windows decorated in grassy green shutters, and a front door to match with them. Inside the house, happiness hung in the house like party balloons. Four kids no bigger than a mouse, giggled with glea, as they sprinted laps around the backyard like miniature Road Runners. Their father peered out the window with a joyous smile, while he cooked away inside the kitchen as if he were Ratatouille.
“Aha! Tag, you're it!” The youngest girl out of the triplets celebrated as she tug the oldest sister.
“Aw! No fair Laura, you’re faster than me,” Alex retorted back with a pout.
All of a sudden, their father stepped outside and began to chase them, with the same smile as before. At that moment, all sadness turned into happiness once again.
My dad is invincible.
0
It happened so fast. It was out of the blue. He was still wearing a clunky boot over his broken foot, still depending on two crutches to hold him up, and his body littered with bruises - a cruel mock of a painting. Countless visits to every type of doctor made him tired and brought him to his breaking point.
He was going to get better, the worst was already over…
...Then why is he here?
One of his doctors - one of the many, found an enlarged lymph node. It was nothing they said - nothing.
...Then why is he here?
He laid in a large, uncomfortable hospital bed. Wires - every color of the rainbow - attached to both arms. Every few seconds or so a machine beeped, signaling he was still breathing. His skin, as white as the blankets that were keeping him warm. His hands, colder than the fall weather outside. The air reeked of bleach that burned your nose. The horrid scent secretly hiding the stench of death that loomed over the hospital. Dread sat himself upon the set beside my dad and watched us with dead eyes.
We were informed that his white blood cell count had reached 0.
The chemotherapy was affecting him, like the car accident.
Which was worse….? They both were.
The car accident reached him first, cancer only a few strides behind it.
It seemed like a fatal race between two killers.
But one person can only take so much.
Will he make it…?
New Hope
“Oh no Elizabeth,” My eyes quickly glanced up at my dad’s side of the screen. He was currently trading in a HAMR for a Grenade Machine.
“Yeah!” My dad shot a grenade at a herd of zombies, with a wide grin.
***
The screen displayed the words “Game Over. Survived 19 Rounds” with zombies freely roaming in the background.
We made to round 19 that time, Elizabeth died first, followed by me, then my dad. It wasn’t our worst - or best. But, considering my dad’s concussion and numerous injuries as a result from the car accident, we did phenomenal.
After my dad finished his chemo treatment, he ditched the crutches and boot, and traded them in for a cane and comfy slippers. And threw away the needles and medicines he needed at home for his recovery.
Not long after, my father got the color back in his face, and his humor as well. Happiness and new hope found its way back to our house as well.
When all hope had seemed gone, it was only merely lost in the sadness and depression. But once my dad started to recover, it broke free of the darkness and followed the light.
Even in the toughest of times, even if I didn’t know it…
He is invincible…
221 Juniper Lane. A two story house painted like the inside of a creme-brulee. Old windows decorated in grassy green shutters, and a front door to match with them. Inside the house, happiness hung in the house like party balloons. Four kids no bigger than a mouse, giggled with glea, as they sprinted laps around the backyard like miniature Road Runners. Their father peered out the window with a joyous smile, while he cooked away inside the kitchen as if he were Ratatouille.
“Aha! Tag, you're it!” The youngest girl out of the triplets celebrated as she tug the oldest sister.
“Aw! No fair Laura, you’re faster than me,” Alex retorted back with a pout.
All of a sudden, their father stepped outside and began to chase them, with the same smile as before. At that moment, all sadness turned into happiness once again.
My dad is invincible.
0
It happened so fast. It was out of the blue. He was still wearing a clunky boot over his broken foot, still depending on two crutches to hold him up, and his body littered with bruises - a cruel mock of a painting. Countless visits to every type of doctor made him tired and brought him to his breaking point.
He was going to get better, the worst was already over…
...Then why is he here?
One of his doctors - one of the many, found an enlarged lymph node. It was nothing they said - nothing.
...Then why is he here?
He laid in a large, uncomfortable hospital bed. Wires - every color of the rainbow - attached to both arms. Every few seconds or so a machine beeped, signaling he was still breathing. His skin, as white as the blankets that were keeping him warm. His hands, colder than the fall weather outside. The air reeked of bleach that burned your nose. The horrid scent secretly hiding the stench of death that loomed over the hospital. Dread sat himself upon the set beside my dad and watched us with dead eyes.
We were informed that his white blood cell count had reached 0.
The chemotherapy was affecting him, like the car accident.
Which was worse….? They both were.
The car accident reached him first, cancer only a few strides behind it.
It seemed like a fatal race between two killers.
But one person can only take so much.
Will he make it…?
New Hope
“Oh no Elizabeth,” My eyes quickly glanced up at my dad’s side of the screen. He was currently trading in a HAMR for a Grenade Machine.
“Yeah!” My dad shot a grenade at a herd of zombies, with a wide grin.
***
The screen displayed the words “Game Over. Survived 19 Rounds” with zombies freely roaming in the background.
We made to round 19 that time, Elizabeth died first, followed by me, then my dad. It wasn’t our worst - or best. But, considering my dad’s concussion and numerous injuries as a result from the car accident, we did phenomenal.
After my dad finished his chemo treatment, he ditched the crutches and boot, and traded them in for a cane and comfy slippers. And threw away the needles and medicines he needed at home for his recovery.
Not long after, my father got the color back in his face, and his humor as well. Happiness and new hope found its way back to our house as well.
When all hope had seemed gone, it was only merely lost in the sadness and depression. But once my dad started to recover, it broke free of the darkness and followed the light.
Even in the toughest of times, even if I didn’t know it…
He is invincible…