So, I waste a lot of time doing things that could be spent working on something productive. Instead of sitting down with a cup of tea and doing my school work, I decide not to. I want to succeed, I need to be able to say that I did this, that I got my AP classes and did well in them regardless of the fact that I was confined to a small room in DeVos. Chemo has not even started and I already don't feel like doing things. They put me on antidepressants which is annoying, but I guess adding 1 more pill to my morning 8 isn't the worst thing in the world. I don't know how I managed to deal with two lung surgeries within two weeks of eachother. They had to put a tube in me so it could drain my lung of anything that shouldn't be there. They did that twice, and I remember so much pain. But then I realize that the physical pain can be helped with opiates. Only thing that will help my mind is God. He loves me so much. I know I am going to be a great vessel for him. I also know it must correlate with this. But I have no idea what it is. And then I go to place where I think about how God loves everyone but that doesn't mean sick kids don't die. The chances of me doing good after this are pretty high. I know many people who have had bone marrow transplants. And they are normal people again, but a special kind. I met a girl named Megan who had a transplant her senior year as well to cure her luekemia. There was a lightness in the air. You don't even have to talk because you know they get it. I was first embarrassed when my nurse came in to tend to my central line because they were sitting there, and it hit me that they've lived it too. They understand this normal. Plus now I have people that will understand my medical jokes.
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April 2017
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