Kate's Cancer

February 1st:

Today I discovered that I only have 6 months to live. I’m dying of breast cancer. Everywhere I look I see things now, things that I never paid attention to before. The colour of the sky, the wind on my face and the sharp turns as we drive down Phoenix Wharf. I know that by the time the year is out I will be dead, but that doesn’t mean that for now I can forget to live because now, I have 6 months to live.

March 1st:

A month has passed since I was given my death date; I went in for a consultation with my parents. Dr. Molloy suggested that I have chemotherapy, my parents were all for it but I said no. I will never forget that pained look on my parents face as I refused any kind of treatment. They don’t want to lose me I know, but I’m not afraid of death. No matter what treatment I take it would only prolong the inevitable. I don’t want that. I want to feel it, I want to understand it.

When we arrived home tears were flowing freely, my parents anger rose but I knew that it wasn’t directed at me, it was directed at themselves; they felt helpless against my disease. I hesitated for a moment, rethinking my decision. Did I really want to put them through the pain? The answer is easy. No. Then again, if my cancer was prolonged it would cause them more pain. Yes, it would be easier if I died sooner rather than later. For them.

April 1st:

4 months left. I did what I have always wanted to do last month, I swam with dolphins. It was an incredible feeling, the water surrounded by body, easing the pain. Maybe that is what heaven will be like. A world full of peace and quiet, a place to reflect on thoughts and life, somewhere to watch over those who loved you. I hope it is.

I can feel it now. It’s growing; I can feel it moving inside me. A visible lump has grown to the size of a golf ball on my chest now. I try and hide it from my parents so as to keep their image of me a happy one. I’ve never been one to show emotion, let them think of me happy and pain free. That is best.


May 1st:

I’ve been growing more tired lately; the pain has been keeping me awake at night. On more than one occasion I have woken up in a sweat, biting back screams that wish to rip from my throat. Hopefully it will get better soon, the pain will cease, but I know that that is unlikely.

Mum came to me last month when she saw me writing in this diary, she asked me what I was doing. I didn’t know the answer. I was writing about the last months of my life without realising it. It’s not like anyone is going to be interested in my battle; I shall probably be just another cancer sufferer, but I’m a person. I have a life, a favourite colour, animal, food, and country. When I die, all of my intimate details and secrets will be lost with me. I don’t want that. I want to be remembered for who I am. A person, not a victim.

June 1st:

I can feel death approaching, it feels cold but oddly relieving. Last month I went back to my school for a day but I couldn’t stand it. The pitying glances and silenced conversations when I entered a room. I felt like screaming. I don’t need people’s pity; I have never needed anyone’s pity. It makes me feel useless.

That day the Headmaster revealed something to me. The school had pitched together to set up the Kate Grove Memorial Scholarship for orphans, to remember my work with them.

Every day after school for two hours, Saturdays and half of Sundays I worked at the local orphanage teaching children maths, english and french. I also played football with them and took them swimming and to the zoo.

I wonder who will do all that when I am gone.

July 1st:

I am into my last month. Soon it shall all be over. I told mum and dad that I want white lilies at my funeral, that pained look crosses their faces again. I told them that they would have to face it sooner or later. Reluctantly they agreed. For that day we set about planning my funeral, I decided on the white lilies and Stronger for my death march. I also told them to not let anyone in if they were wearing black, I refuse to be mourned.

It’s odd to say this but these past six months have been the best of my life. I discovered things about the world that I never would of seen before. In some ways my cancer has been a blessing, it has reopened my eyes to the world. That has been worth all of the pain.

I can feel myself tiring now. I don’t know if this will be the last time I write but if anyone is reading this, now that death isn’t the end. It is the next great adventure.

Au revior mes copains.