Six Months
By: Allison Cianci

Monday, April 21, 2009 at 4:56 PM I received the worst news of my life. It's funny how one day I have my whole life ahead of me and the next I'm lucky if I get to see my next birthday. It's funny how one word can change everything. Well, it's not really funny.

Since freshman year of college I have been an extreme sports junkie. Bungee jumping, sky diving, mountain climbing, you name it; I'd probably do it. I hate being cooped up inside for too long. It drives me crazy.

I had been sick and stuck in my house for a whole week, and I was itching to get out. Thursday night my friend Nick called and asked if I was still planning on going rafting with them the next day. I was feeling better, so I quickly said yes.

It took awhile to fall asleep that night in anticipation of the adrenaline rush the next day. I live for those moments. I wouldn't be able to survive without them.

The next morning I woke up 13 minutes before my alarm with a horrible headache. Determined to get out of the house today, I took a few Advil and swallowed them dry.

After my headache was manageable, I took my time getting ready. I was in my car as the sun was coming up. By the time I got to Nick's house, I was feeling a little light headed, which reminded me that I forgot to eat before taking the pills. I grabbed a bag of Doritos from Nick's house to eat on the way.

I don't really remember much after that. The next thing I knew I was waking up in a hospital. My parents, who were talking to each other on the other side of the room, quickly got the doctor when the saw I was awake. They didn't seem to know what to say to me, which was odd for my parents who are never at loss for words. I knew something had to be wrong right away.

The doctor came into the room and had that very serious look on his face like they do on TV when they are about to tell their patient bad news. As soon as he opened his mouth to talk, I knew this couldn't be good. I remember the whole conversation like it happened an hour ago.

"Mr. Harper, do you know why you are in the hospital?" The doctor asked me. I shook my head. "You collapsed and hit your head; you have been in a coma for the past 4 days." I could tell that this wasn't the bad news he had to tell me by the look on my mother's face. If that was it, she would be happy I was awake.

"The good news is that you should be able to fully recover from the fall." He paused. And? The bad news? "The bad news is that your CAT scan results show that you have a brain tumor." He continued to talk; I didn't comprehend any of it. I could hear my mom crying next to me, but that was pretty much it. A tumor. I had a tumor. My mind went to all the stories I had heard of people with tumors just waiting 'til they lost the fight. I never thought I would have to deal with something like this.

After that I was taken to do test after test so the doctors could know "exactly what they are dealing with." Long story short, I had to start chemo right away. It was my only chance except for some kind of miracle; both options weren't in my favor.

As expected, chemo made me sick and weak, unable to do anything. At least not the things I wanted to do. It was horrible. I pretty much just stayed in my house all day, every day with the exception of going to the doctors. I wasn't alone, my friends and family made an effort to make it so someone was with me most of the time. In theory it was nice, but it got really annoying after awhile. I didn't have anything to contribute to conversations so there wasn't much to talk about. Sometimes I just wanted to be left alone.

My mom was always worrying about every little thing and would start crying. I didn't blame her or anything, but it wasn't really helping me in any way. And then, my friends would come over thinking I wanted to hear all about what they did the previous weekend, reminding me of everything I was missing while I was stuck on my couch or in my bed. I would smile and act interested while in my head I was screaming at them to leave me alone and to go talk to someone who cared!

As time went on, I was always in a bad mood, and the smallest thing would set me off. I ended up getting so mad that I threw my remote which somehow broke a mirror. Just what I needed-seven years of bad luck. I could tell my friends were annoyed by this because they would come up with reasons they couldn't come over or had to leave early. I didn't blame them; I didn't even want to be around me anymore.

They would try and get me out of the house. Tried to get me to go to the movies or just out to get something to eat, but I was either feeling too sick or too depressed to fully function. The doctors were yet to see an improvement of any kind. I wasn't expecting to have to deal with all these problems for much longer.

My birthday was a few weeks away and everyone was trying to get me excited. I wasn't even supposed to last this long. My chemo was scheduled around my birthday so I wouldn't be feeling sick; I was having a big party and had to be able to interact with everyone. I had to deal with "What do you want for your birthday?", "Twenty-seven is going to be a better year for you, I can tell.", and "Getting out and seeing everyone is going to make you feel one hundred times better!". I guess I'm not an optimistic person because all those comments just made me angrier.

I then got to the point where I was mad at myself for being mad all the time. I wanted to stop, but couldn't. My life wasn't in my hands anymore. I had no idea exactly what the plan was for my party, just that I was getting out of the house. I secretly couldn't wait, I did need to get out, but then again I didn't want to get my hopes up? I don't know if that's the real reason. I'm just confused I guess and don't know what I want anymore.

It felt like years had passed by the time it got to my birthday. My friends were all very secretive about what was going to happen. I had no idea, and that made me nervous. I was never one for surprises. My friend Connor was in charge of getting me to wherever it was we were going. On the way there, I had already noticed that I was in a much better mood then I had been in in months. I guess I was excited to get out of the house.

The party actually ended up being exactly what I needed. I think everyone was instructed not to talk about the tumor, which helped. The party was in two parts. First, I went paintballing with my friends. We broke up into teams and I instructed them not to let me win, to play as the normally would. They all agreed.

As soon as the game started, I was a different person. Paintball was something my friends and I took very seriously. My brain switched into 'paintball mode' and I was myself again. I felt fine and thought of the last few months were as far out of my mind as possible. It was like they had never happened.

Honestly, I would have been happy with just that but when the game was over, my team winning by the way, we got back into the cars we came in and drove down the road to a room my parents had rented out. My entire family was already there along with some other friends that hadn't come to paintball.

There was a buffet of my favorite foods and more. I wished the party could last longer, but later that night I had to go back to my depressing house.

I woke up the next morning, determined not to let myself become depressed again. I wasn't dead yet and I figured I might as well live my life while I still could.

I took my breakfast outside to eat for the first time in months and called my friends to see if they wanted to do something instead of them having to call me. I knew I wasn't ready and able to go back into extreme sports, but I wanted to get out.

We ended up going out on my friend's parents' boat for the day. My friends and I were sitting on the boat talking when one of my friends let slip the subject that was on everyone's mind: my depression. I knew she didn't mean to bring it up by the way she quickly tried to change the subject. I decided it was time I confronted the subject. It wouldn't do anyone any good to keep avoiding it. I hadn't realized until recently how bad it really got. It came to a point where I didn't care if I lived or died, I just wanted to get the waiting over with, either option looked good enough to me.

My friends seemed relieved and more comfortable when I was able to talk about everything. And it felt good to get everything out in the open.

The days passed and I continued to get out of the house every day, even if it was just going to someone else's house to watch TV. It was soon time for my next doctor's appointment to have test don't to see if the chemo was working.

The doctor right away, said he could tell I was in a better mood. He asked me about my party and other random questions, I guess seeing if I was genuinely out of my depression, while I was going through the tests. They didn't take as long as I remember them taking in the past, and I was out of there in no time.

A few days later, on Monday, October 19, 2009 at 3:17 PM, I was officially in remission. No more chemo. No more throwing up and feeling useless and weak. I could go back to doing whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted.

I know it can come back and everything, but for now it's over. The worst six months of my life are over, and I can move on, live my life, and hopefully never look back.