Molly's Cancer
an excerpt

Molly Juliet Ackerman: Interview 1. Conducted on the 23rd of October, 7:22 pm at the Ackerman residence kitchen table.

I’m Molly. “Molly Juliet Ackerman” if you want the full name just for the record or something. 15 years old. My birthday is June 17. I guess when my parents called me “Juliet” they didn’t realize I’d be dying an oh-so-tragic death at an appropriate age, huh? And there’s no Romeo, which is a bit disappointing.
Oh, dying? I’m not really scared. Not scared at all, if you want to think about it. I’m more worried about what will happen to my family and what will happen to Phosphor— uh, that’s my dog. No one else in the family really likes him and he’s hopelessly devoted to me. I don’t want him to be like one of those dogs that sits on their masters grave every day, or worse just waits by the door for them to return.

Well, Phosphor is a funny name I guess. It’s one of the things one of the Angels says in my favorite book. “Lumen, Phosphor, Fluor, Candle.” You’ve read Angels? Neat. Though you’re a big author, writing about people dying, why wouldn’t you have? My oncologist recommended it to me, as something that might help me “cope”, even though it’s not about cancer. I have that last speech of Harper’s pinned to my door. Monologue, sorry. Monologue. Thanks for reminding me what it’s called.

Medical stuff? What do you know, so I don’t need to repeat anything? I don’t really like talking about it. I’ve still got all my hair, obviously, which is good because I want it as long as I can have it. The chemo and radiation aren’t that often, to keep me alive a little longer, not wipe me out and keep me alive as a vegatable a lot longer. That’s why I didn’t want any sort of surgery— I want to be happy and as healthy as long as possible before I’m confined to a bed. Spending all my time recovering from chemotherapy or a surgery is a waste. I have friends and a family.

I guess Ryan did mention seizures. They’re not that common, really, according to Doctor Stannish— she’s my oncologist— I’m doing really well.
I’m sorry. I hate to do this, but can I cut this short? I’m… I’m suddenly very tired.