Angel

In the arms of the angel, fly away from here,
From this dark, cold hotel room and the endlessness that you fear…

I lay on the bed in silence, my body unmoving but inside writhing in pain. My eyes were closed, but I knew my mother was sitting next to me, holding my hand, crying and praying. The thought gave me little comfort.
I heard footsteps, barely audible over the screaming going on in my head. My eyelids managed to flicker open for just a second. My best friend, Jake, had come from school to visit me. I could not talk to him- my mouth could not form words. I was aware of him coming to the opposite side of the bed from mum, sitting down, and grabbing my other hand. His steady grip helped me calm somewhat.

Let me be empty, oh weightless and maybe
I’ll find some peace tonight…

I fell into some sort of sleep, strange creatures flitting in and out of my sight, pain keeping me from continuing to a deeper sleep.
When I woke up, the pain had receded a bit, and I could open my eyes and talk in a croaky voice that was not my own.
Jake had gone. The doctor was in the room. He smiled when he saw my eyes flicker. ‘Good morning, Lynda,’ he greeted. I gave a weak smile in response. I turned my head to see my mother. Her face was streaked with tears. ‘Mum,’ I rasped.
The doctor looked at mum. ‘Can I talk with you a minute, please?’
She let go of my hand and walked out of the room, blowing me a kiss as she closed the door of my room so that she could talk to the doctor privately.
When they were gone, I saw something white come into sight, and then leave again. I turned to look, but it wasn’t there. I gathered my brows. He had been so beautiful! White, flowing robes, huge, pure white wings, and a halo of gold floating just above his head. He was an angel, a real angel, I was sure of it. I wanted to see him again.
My thoughts of him receded into the background as my mother came back into the room. Her face was pale; her hand shook as she laid it on mine.

Spend all your time waiting for that second chance
For the break that will make it okay…

‘What is it, mum? What’s the matter?’ Her weak exterior scared me. She was usually so strong, always offering a solid shoulder to lean on in times of need.
She sniffled.
‘Mum, tell me what is wrong!’ I demanded.
‘The doctor said…’ tears rolled down her cheek. ‘He said… the cancer is getting worse, Lynda.’
‘How much worse?’ My eyes frantically searched for hers, hunting for a hint of hope. There was none.
‘You have one week, Lynda.’
My mouth closed, and my head began to hurt again.

So tired of the straight line…

One week. I had one week, perhaps less, to live before… before I left it all behind. My friends, my family, my hopes and dreams. All swept away because of this cursed cancer. There was no hope- I would die, at fourteen years of age. Not having experienced the world. Never getting the chance to become something in life, to be known… not even a boyfriend! I sighed, unaware of the tears beginning to form, blurring my vision. It was over. I admitted defeat.
One year ago the news had come- I had cancer. It had been easy to deal with at first- hard, perhaps, with society- friends had deserted me, and other classmates wanted nothing to do with me. And then, after surgeries and much recovery, they had said it was gone. I was in remission. The news had brought much relief to both me and my family. We had been cocooned in false beliefs that I would be okay.
The next report was a bombshell. The damned cancer had come back! It had spread. I declined radically from there… now here I was. One week to live, and falling fast.

You are pulled from the wreckage
Of your silent reverie…

Jake walked in. ‘Aren’t you meant to be at school?’ I asked. ‘Not to be rude.’
He smiled forcedly. ‘Took the day off.’ He sat down next to mum, took his share of my hand and placed the other on mum’s shoulder. She shot him a wavering smile.
I wiped my tears away and looked Jake steadily in the eye. ‘Did you hear?’
His eyes traveled to his feet. ‘Yes,’ he replied. His hand tightened on mine.
I fell asleep, tortured by reality yet somehow comforted by the fantasy that there was someone watching over me, guarding me as I slept.
The angel came to me in my dreams. He did not speak, but he smiled at me, his hand reaching out to touch mine. But no matter how much I stretched, I could not reach that soft hand, fall into that blissful embrace.
I woke in pain- pain, that disgusting thing that had made me suffer every single day since I was diagnosed.
I had had enough. I could only feel one hand- my mother’s. ‘Make it stop, mum,’ I moaned. ‘Make it stop!’
She stood up, stroking my scalp, sympathetic tears splashing onto the bed. She murmured words I could not hear.
‘Make it stop!’ I screamed. My back arched and I slapped mum’s hands away. I ripped off all of the drips and such connected to me. A nurse hurried in. I yelled and shouted- anything to get them away, to let me on my own. The nurse stuck something into my arm. After a few minutes, I could not move. I was paralyzed. My frantic eyes flicked around the room. My mum was crying, again. The nurse was busy connecting the drips and things to me once more.
I was sick of it all. Fed up with the pain and suffering. Had enough of the crying, enough of the heartache.

It don’t make no difference
Escape one last time
It’s easier to believe in this sweet madness
Oh, this glorious sadness that brings me to my knees…

That night (at least I thought it was night- perhaps it was early morning) I could move again. My mum was still there, awake and watchful. I smiled at her unyielding love for me.
The angel was there. He stood at the head of my bed, opposite my mother. I had to turn my head slightly to see him fully. He smiled at me, but said nothing, as usual. I smiled back, an overall sense of calm blanketing me. I knew that when I next slept, this beautiful creature, this angel, would pick me up and cradle me in his strong, sure, arms and lead me to an equally wonderful place of peace. I knew that I would be at rest, finally. I knew. I just knew.

You’re in the arms of the angel
May you find some comfort here…

I looked at mum and squeezed her hand. Jake was there again. My hand tightened on his also. ‘I love you mum,’ I whispered. ‘I love you Jake. I’ve always loved you.’
Mum began to cry loudly. ‘No, Lynda!’ She pleaded. ‘No!’
I saw a look of unbelieving acceptance cross over Jake’s face. He shook his head. ‘I love you too, Lynda.’
I looked once again at the angel. He touched my shoulder gently.

Some comfort here…

I closed my eyes.