‎'Cause old habits are so hard to break. It'd be a shame to stop now that I've started to make really good mistakes

Cancer. I hate that word.
It never affected me as much growing up. I saw the effects of it on others. I saw it take my friends family members away. I heard about it on the news. I never personally knew the bitterness of the word.
I lost my grandmother to lung cancer right before my sixteenth birthday.
It did not register right away. Even though I saw her in pain and watched her life slowly fade away, my emotions did not reciprocate the events. It was not until about a month later, while taking my last driving class, the emotions registered. I was a wreck.
I was driving on the road my family and I always took going to my grandmother’s house in Mentor. I looked up and saw the familiar exit sign.
I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes. My mind was everywhere. I told my instructor I needed a bathroom break. Luckily, we were close to our destination, the local Sears department store.
Once I parked the car in the department stores parking lot, I bolted inside, not knowing where the bathroom was in the store.
I can only imagine what the store clerk though seeing this 16 year-old girl charging into the store, eyes filled with tears, and demanding to know where the bathroom is. They probably assumed I wrecked the training car or something.
 I broke down. Reminding myself that I was in a public bathroom, I picked myself up before sliding down the wall to the floor. All strength was lost. I sat on that floor and cried out every tear that had been stored up for weeks.
There in that bathroom I tasted that bitterness for the first time. I hated it. I prayed to God that I would never have to hear that word again. I did not know if I could handle it.
As the years past, the bitterness lost its taste. I had lost ones that were close to me, but not from that word. Not from cancer.
It was not until the other night that the all familiar taste returned.
I was meeting a friend for dinner and drinks out in Lakewood. We had not seen each other for almost months and needed to catch up. She had her nursing clinical that kept her busy and I had quite a busy schedule myself.
She and I were neighbors growing up. She lived with her grandparents in the house across from my parents. We did just about everything together. We were sisters.
We decided to go to Melt and feast on delicious sandwiches and beer.
While waiting for our table, she asked me how I had been and what was new.
I told her about my new job, new apartment, caught her up on the drama in my life, relationships that have came and gone, and everything in-between.
I then asked her how she had been and what was new in her life.
That is when the bitter taste came back, ovarian cancer.
The doctors told her they caught it early. They said that she would survive past this. She believes them, as do I.
After she told me this I noticed the weight loss, the thinning hair, and the fatigued look in her face. But I also noticed her smile. I noticed she was still as lively as the last time I saw her. I noticed that she was not letting this get the best of her. I had to stay strong.
We continued the night laughing and eating way too much food.
Plans were made to hangout again, very soon, and we said our goodbyes.
I was staying strong. Her strength almost made me forget about the bitter taste in my mouth, almost.
Once I got in my car I lost all control. It took over my emotions.
Even though hope is still there, this is something bigger than myself. She is so young and has so much left to do in her life. She is my sister. This can not be the end for her. These can not be her final moments.
I know that she is strong and I know that she will fight through this. I know that these will not be her final moments. I have to know this. I can not allow that bitter word to win.
I wish I could erase the word from the dictionary. Pretend that it does not exist. Pretend that it can no longer affect the ones I love. I can not though. I can only walk around with that bitter taste in my mouth.


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