Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > A Condition and It's Treminal
"Great show guys!" Gerard said to all of us, wiping his head off with a towel. He sat down on a chair and let his head flop back onto it. The rest of the guys were doing random thing; drinking water, lying on the floor, talking on the phone. I was getting something to eat, a ham and cheese sandwich and a coke. I was always pretty hungry after a show. I sat in the chair beside Gerard's and began to eat. Frankie and Ray had now started playing Guitar Hero.
Before I knew it, it was time to load onto the bus to head on to our next show, Manhattan. I love New York City. It's beautiful with all the lights and it just gives you that exciting feeling in your stomach , or at least it did before we started touring all over the world. But I was just as excited as I always am to play there.
Suddenly, I felt a wave of pain go through the bones in my legs when I went to sit down. It wasn't the first time that happened, however. I've been feeling random flashes of pain through my bones for the past couple of weeks. They have become a little more frequent than when they first started. I haven't done anything about it though because I'm guessing I'm just sore from touring. I brushed it off as I sat down to watch Mr. Bean, as usual.
Frankie took a seat beside me eventually. He was in some Batman pj's. He usually wears pj's when we were just around the bus. I wondered when he would just wear them on stage so he wouldn't have to bother changing. I don't think he likes Mr. Bean very much, but he would sit down and watch it with me every once in a while.
I took a glance at my cell phone and saw that it was almost one in the morning. I was getting tired and when I looked over at Frankie he looked like he was about to fall asleep too.
"Hey, I'm going to bed. We have a long day tomorrow. Brian said we have an interview a photo shoot and then, of course, the show." I said before standing up. He nodded and said 'goodnight' before I walked to my bunk.
I laid down in my bunk and looked at the brown ceiling as I felt my arms ache. Gotta stop banging so hard on those drums man, I thought to myself. I rolled over onto my side facing the wall of the bus as I slowly began to drift off to sleep...
The next morning, or later that morning I should say, I was woken by Ray shaking my shoulder.
"Wake up man, we have thirty minutes until the interview." He stopped shaking me when he saw my eyes open. He smelled a shirt before pulling it down over his head. As I became fully conscience, what he said finally clicked in my mind.
"Thirty minutes? Why did you let me sleep so late?" I stood up and my legs felt slightly sore so I stumbled a bit. Ray stretched his long arm out to steady me.
"Woah, chill out Bob. We're just running a bit late. The bus driver said we went through a traffic jam in Pennsylvania so were a little behind schedule. Are you alright?" He looked at me with concern on his face. I rubbed my forehead for a second before replying.
"Yeah, I'm just a little sore. I think I'm going to try and get a doctor's appointment scheduled, just to make sure it's nothing to serious. I have to get ready." I started searching around for a clean set of clothes.
After I got dressed, brushed my teeth, and fixed my hair it was about time for the interview. We all piled off the bus and went into the studio where the interview was being held. I saw a woman with red hair and a microphone sitting on a couch. That must be our interviewer, I thought to myself. I was right because a second later she came over to us and introduced herself.
"Hello, I'm Carrie and I'll be interviewing you today." She shook all of our hands before motioning to the long couch for us all to sit on. We all took a seat and waited on the interview to begin. She sat down on a chair across from us a few minutes later and started the interview. Mainly it was the same old questions about our new album, and a few about our personal lives. Interviews are pretty much all the same. It was over before I knew it; Gerard had done most of the talking.
Our photo shoot had also flown by and soon we were loading the bus to go to that night's scheduled show. It was about forty-five minutes away from the studio where the interview had taken place. Since we had a few hours before the show, I decided to go ahead and get checked up on by our doctor. I guess even though I don't really fancy being famous, that is one perk. It's nice being able to see a doctor whenever I felt that I needed to rather than whenever it was convenient for them. I called him and he said he would meet me at the local clinic which was about three blocks from the venue we were playing. I told Worm about it and he drove me to meet the doctor.
"So what's going on, Mr. Bryar?" He had out that little file folder that doctors always have out. He was marking things on it even though I hadn't said anything yet.
"Uh, well lately I've been aching and I've been more prone to headaches. Also, I've noticed I become short of breathe more frequently than usual during a show. I just wanted to make sure it wasn't to serious and see if there might be any medicine I could get to help." I watched him scribble in that mysterious file folder as I spoke. He kept scribbling even after I stopped talking.
"Alright. Well, I'm going to listen to your heart, please remove your shirt." I pulled the shirt over my head as he put the stethoscope in his ears. He put the piercing cold metal to the bare skin on my chest and listened intently for a few seconds before moving it and listening again. He pulled it away and out of his ears before scribbling in the file again. He then came over and picked up my arm. He examined it for a minute before letting it go and doing the same to my other arm. Once again, he scribbled in the file.
"Ok, well I have an idea of what the problem might be but we'll need to run some tests before I make the final diagnosis. I'll need to take a blood sample, and also a bone marrow biopsy. With those to tests it will confirm or deny what I suspect you might have."
"Biopsy? I can't have a biopsy right now I have a show to play in a few hours. Besides, how can I have something so serious that I need a biopsy? I'm only sore, this is common with touring. What do you think is so serious?" I looked at him expectantly.
"Bob," He paused as if to stall.
"I think you may have Acute Lymphocytic Leukemia."
Before I knew it, it was time to load onto the bus to head on to our next show, Manhattan. I love New York City. It's beautiful with all the lights and it just gives you that exciting feeling in your stomach , or at least it did before we started touring all over the world. But I was just as excited as I always am to play there.
Suddenly, I felt a wave of pain go through the bones in my legs when I went to sit down. It wasn't the first time that happened, however. I've been feeling random flashes of pain through my bones for the past couple of weeks. They have become a little more frequent than when they first started. I haven't done anything about it though because I'm guessing I'm just sore from touring. I brushed it off as I sat down to watch Mr. Bean, as usual.
Frankie took a seat beside me eventually. He was in some Batman pj's. He usually wears pj's when we were just around the bus. I wondered when he would just wear them on stage so he wouldn't have to bother changing. I don't think he likes Mr. Bean very much, but he would sit down and watch it with me every once in a while.
I took a glance at my cell phone and saw that it was almost one in the morning. I was getting tired and when I looked over at Frankie he looked like he was about to fall asleep too.
"Hey, I'm going to bed. We have a long day tomorrow. Brian said we have an interview a photo shoot and then, of course, the show." I said before standing up. He nodded and said 'goodnight' before I walked to my bunk.
I laid down in my bunk and looked at the brown ceiling as I felt my arms ache. Gotta stop banging so hard on those drums man, I thought to myself. I rolled over onto my side facing the wall of the bus as I slowly began to drift off to sleep...
The next morning, or later that morning I should say, I was woken by Ray shaking my shoulder.
"Wake up man, we have thirty minutes until the interview." He stopped shaking me when he saw my eyes open. He smelled a shirt before pulling it down over his head. As I became fully conscience, what he said finally clicked in my mind.
"Thirty minutes? Why did you let me sleep so late?" I stood up and my legs felt slightly sore so I stumbled a bit. Ray stretched his long arm out to steady me.
"Woah, chill out Bob. We're just running a bit late. The bus driver said we went through a traffic jam in Pennsylvania so were a little behind schedule. Are you alright?" He looked at me with concern on his face. I rubbed my forehead for a second before replying.
"Yeah, I'm just a little sore. I think I'm going to try and get a doctor's appointment scheduled, just to make sure it's nothing to serious. I have to get ready." I started searching around for a clean set of clothes.
After I got dressed, brushed my teeth, and fixed my hair it was about time for the interview. We all piled off the bus and went into the studio where the interview was being held. I saw a woman with red hair and a microphone sitting on a couch. That must be our interviewer, I thought to myself. I was right because a second later she came over to us and introduced herself.
"Hello, I'm Carrie and I'll be interviewing you today." She shook all of our hands before motioning to the long couch for us all to sit on. We all took a seat and waited on the interview to begin. She sat down on a chair across from us a few minutes later and started the interview. Mainly it was the same old questions about our new album, and a few about our personal lives. Interviews are pretty much all the same. It was over before I knew it; Gerard had done most of the talking.
Our photo shoot had also flown by and soon we were loading the bus to go to that night's scheduled show. It was about forty-five minutes away from the studio where the interview had taken place. Since we had a few hours before the show, I decided to go ahead and get checked up on by our doctor. I guess even though I don't really fancy being famous, that is one perk. It's nice being able to see a doctor whenever I felt that I needed to rather than whenever it was convenient for them. I called him and he said he would meet me at the local clinic which was about three blocks from the venue we were playing. I told Worm about it and he drove me to meet the doctor.
"So what's going on, Mr. Bryar?" He had out that little file folder that doctors always have out. He was marking things on it even though I hadn't said anything yet.
"Uh, well lately I've been aching and I've been more prone to headaches. Also, I've noticed I become short of breathe more frequently than usual during a show. I just wanted to make sure it wasn't to serious and see if there might be any medicine I could get to help." I watched him scribble in that mysterious file folder as I spoke. He kept scribbling even after I stopped talking.
"Alright. Well, I'm going to listen to your heart, please remove your shirt." I pulled the shirt over my head as he put the stethoscope in his ears. He put the piercing cold metal to the bare skin on my chest and listened intently for a few seconds before moving it and listening again. He pulled it away and out of his ears before scribbling in the file again. He then came over and picked up my arm. He examined it for a minute before letting it go and doing the same to my other arm. Once again, he scribbled in the file.
"Ok, well I have an idea of what the problem might be but we'll need to run some tests before I make the final diagnosis. I'll need to take a blood sample, and also a bone marrow biopsy. With those to tests it will confirm or deny what I suspect you might have."
"Biopsy? I can't have a biopsy right now I have a show to play in a few hours. Besides, how can I have something so serious that I need a biopsy? I'm only sore, this is common with touring. What do you think is so serious?" I looked at him expectantly.
"Bob," He paused as if to stall.
"I think you may have Acute Lymphocytic Leukemia."
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