Searching For The Light

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

As I poured Mira's medicine in a cup, I remembered bits of my dream. The sound of Becca's voice still haunted me. Remembering the feeling of her little arms wrapped around my legs made me shiver.

7-year-old Becca had acute myeloid leukemia, which after treatment, seemed to have disappeared. But five months after she was discharged and taken home, the cancer had somehow returned. She was brought back to the hospital, and once again started treatment.

Months went by without any visible improvement. Her parents requested that the treatment be stopped, as there was no point putting Becca through the pain of treatment if she wasn't going to get better. Shortly after discontinuing the treatment, she had passed away.

I was there, standing by the door of her room, during her last day. I remember how her parents held on to her frail body as her heart beat became slower, and fainter, until it finally disappeared. Her parents' sobs had only gotten louder when the heart monitor beeped long and hard. As Becca's dad hugged his screaming, sobbing wife, I had walked out of the room.

That day my emotions had gotten the better of me, causing me to punch an unsuspecting fellow nurse.

The next day, when I came into work looking like crap, my manager handed me a leave slip and sent me home so I could 'regain my composure'.

My thoughts were interrupted by Mira as she threw the television remote at the wall. The latest episode of Game of Thrones had just finished and she was telling about the 'most amazingly amazing parts'.

"Then, he crushed Oberyn's head, almost as if it were a god damned pumpkin he was having for dinner! It was brutal. So very amazingly brutal! Though, I'm really sad Oberyn died, he was so great. Ugh, a whole week till the next episode is out," she said while frowning at the television in her room.

For someone with a horrible brain tumor, Mira was a surprisingly bright and bubbly 17-year-old. She had lost all her hair as a result of her ongoing chemotherapy treatment so now, you could see her in one of her multiple wigs. Each wig was a different hair style, but all of them were rainbow-colored.

I asked her once, "Why rainbow?"

"Because, cancer caused all my hair to fall off! So, every time I look in the mirror and see my bald head, I get angry. My cancer is slowly taking everything away from me! My hair is gone. My health is deteriorating. I don't have a social life anymore. And when I die, cancer will have successfully taken away my family and my life.

You know, there's this saying, "You can't have a rainbow without a little rain." I feel like the cancer is the rain, and even if I'm not a great person, I think I still deserve my rainbow. Thus, even if I never actually end up getting better, at least I can act like everything is fine.

So now, every time I look in the mirror, I see a rainbow instead of rain. I see hope. And that hope may be false. But that's alright, because for that one tiny second that I have hope, I feel happy," she had replied.

It was crazy. Completely and utterly crazy. This girl was able to stay positive even though she was in one hell of a shitty situation, and I couldn't do the same.

"Mister nurse man! My medicine!" Mira sang out, pulling me out of my trance.

"Oh yeah, sorry," I replied and gave her a sheepish smile. Then I handed her the medicine and a glass of water.

Once she was finished taking her medicine, I removed her IV so she could go shower and change. While she did so, I refilled her water jug and changed her bed sheets.

Then, I put on my earphones and listened to some song. It was from a newer band, but I couldn't be bothered to pay attention. There was so much on my mind, so many things to think about.

Once Mira came back into the room, I couldn't help but laugh at her pajamas. They had little gothic strawberries printed all over them.

"Hey, hey. No hate. Emo strawberries are going to revolutionize the world. You'll see," she said, as she sat down on the bed and have me her wrist. I stuck another IV in and checked her heart monitor patches.

I filled up a glass of water and handed it to Mira. She drank all the water, and handed the glass back. After she was all settled into bed, she said, like every other day, "So, Jared, tell me about yourself."

I snorted and replied, "Goodnight kiddo, see you tomorrow."

She hummed a goodnight as she slipped away to a place where she could live a normal life. I adjusted the air conditioning, turned off the lights, and headed to the nurses' room.

* *

Work would end today at 11 AM. Till then I was just supposed to relax. That is unless someone were to need a nurse.

Just as I sat down on the couch, ready to continue reading The Goldfinch, Manager Butthole walked in.

He was generally called Manager Butthole (while he wasn't around, of course) because calling him Manager Asshole would probably not be a good option considering all the kids here.

He was, quite obviously, an absolute and complete asshole. John Daley, our manager as of two months ago, was the sort of guy who could turn a completely great day into the worst day ever.

When he looked straight at me with that irritating, conniving look, I knew the bastrad wasn't going to let me be, and I was right. In that annoying, taunting tone of his, he said, "Jared! There you are! What're you doing? No, wait, don't answer that. I'll tell you what you're doing. You're rearranging the entire medicine cabinet in alphabetical order."

He shot a smug little smile my way and walked out of the room, slamming the door on his way out.

I was not being paid enough to deal with that guy's crap. But then, kids in Africa weren't getting enough nutrition either.

I sighed out loud, dropped The Goldfinch into my messenger bag, and left to the cafeteria.

I needed a good shot of caffeine before I started rearranging that god damned medicine cabinet.