Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > With Dying Words.
With Dying Words.
5 reviewsGerard Way 17 year old cancer patient. Frank Iero 16 year old Pyske Ward patient. Now this is just bound to end well! .:FRERARD:.
5Ambiance
With Dying Words
Chapter One-
Obsession. Everyone has them maybe it’s cheesy cop shows or those ABBA records kept hidden away. Mine was dying words. The last words ever uttered by a person how moments had fleeted. My moment where fleeting. Memories slipping away in the passing breeze. The thought that in just one short year my moments will have fleeted. The weak, messy body that I have called home for the past seventeen years was falling and seemed to be determined to drag me down with it. But then again what much more is there to except then a slow, agonisingly painful death and the sinking feeling that you will not be remembered when you’re gone, when the tumour currently inhabiting your kidneys decided that ‘Hey! You know what; I think I will make myself incurable and excruciating just for laughs’. So that’s exactly what it did.
I think about the time when I was first told about my ‘sickness’. I remember Doctor Stine sitting me and my parents down nice and gently. He begun to talk about the latest football match when I had decided that I had a quite enough of this bullshit and demanded me tell me what was wrong with me. As I replay the scene over and over in my head I remember it to the letter.
“Yeah, yeah just cut the crap and tell me what’s going to happen to me” I snapped, making my state of unhappiness very clear. I had spent nearly two months in and out of hospitals and doctors surgery’s and still had now answers.
“Well Gerard, don’t say I didn’t sugar coat it” Doctor Stine cleared his throat, pushed his glasses up and shuffled some papers as if to make the whole situation even more dramatic.
“Gerard you’ve got stage three kidney cancer, quickly progressing to stage four. When you reach stage for you’ve got less than a 10% chance of living beyond five years”. My stomach dropped. I suddenly wished I hadn’t asked. I wished that I could stuff the words back down his throat, like if I hadn’t heard them that it wouldn’t be true.
Everything was silent for a few moments. Then my mother let out a blood curdling scream. A sour mixture of misery, sorrow and just good old pain. The noise echoing down the hall. Soon enough the screams dulled to a broken heave and she collapsed into my father’s arms, whose silent tears almost went unnoticed. I felt as if I was on one of those little tea cup rides, spinning round and round. But instead of being strapped on I was hanging of the side, desperately clinging to the side.
And now nearly two years later I was still alive and kicking. Well, if you can call ‘alive and kicking’ permanently living in the Children’s Cancer Ward at Marter Hill Hospital, hooked up to some many drugs and drips that I was sure it was unethical and no longer attended high school.
And so here I lay, staring up at the grainy ceiling waiting for death. Thinking about my last words. The once great Edgar Allan Poe’s dying words were ‘Lord help my poor soul’ which to me is the 1800’s equivalent of ‘I’ve done a lot of shit I’m not proud of’. But alas my dear Edgar there is no lord to help those whose souls are in desperate need of some assistance. And even when assistance is needed the lord has proceeded to do jack shit. Even for the 16 year old never been kissed cancer kid. But then again is the even a lord to give such help? For some people the more shit they go through the more they seem to trust God and Jesus but for me as I lay here dying I have seemed to have lost all faith in any religion.
Soon enough my regular nurse Janine comes into check on me and continue to inject useless drugs into my deceiving body.
“And how are you today Gerard?” she asked in her usual overly perky tone.
“Hmm let me think about that for a second dear Janine. Well seeing’s I’m lying in the proverbial space between life and death know to the common human as the Intensive Care Unit, slowly but nevertheless surely being consumed from the inside out but a cancerous growth and waiting for my craptacular body to shit out on me at any second, I think I would say that I am feeling superb! And you Nurse Janine?” for a long moment she just kind of stared at me, a dumbfounded expression scrunching up her usually pretty features.
“Oh come on Janine! You seriously didn’t expect me to answer with ‘Oh nurse I am feeling strong today! I think I will beat this thing any day now and then I can go home and be a real boy!’ did you?”
Once again the dumbfounded expression made its way to her face and she changed my IV in silence.
“Friends applaud, the comedy is over!” I quoted the last words of Beethoven, clapping my frail hands as she exited the room.
After lying there for god knows how long it was finally time for my afternoon stroll. Or outside playtime! As Nurse Janine liked to call it. I was unhooked from the majority of the drips, except my main IV and given a walking frame. I was escorted down the children’s garden and playground, and then left to my own devices.
As usual the playground and garden was virtually empty except for the odd nurse here and there to make sure that no one died whilst merrily climbing on the sad looking jungle gym. I walked, well when I say walked what I really mean is more like hobbled, over to the dank swing set my IV stand in my wake. I eased myself into the swing, pushing my walking frame to the side. I stared at my converse clad feet. I was able to change from my usual hospital gown into a pair of faded black straight cut jeans with a hole in the knee and a black Anthrax tee. I tugged at the black beanie partly covering my rat’s nest of badly dyed black hair and ever so slightly swung on the creaky set.
I shoved my iPod headphones in and softly played Iron Maiden, until unexpectedly someone else wandered out into the garden. He had hair nearly the same bottle black hair that I did; his thick fringe fell into his greeny, brown eyes. He wore a pair of black jeans so constricting that I was sure he was to pass out at any moment, a black tee advertising his like for the band Hawthorne Heights, a black and purple checked hoddie and purple Chuck Taylors.
He waltzed over to the far end of the garden and sat against a tree, producing a battered paperback from his enormous jumper pockets. As I continued to stare at him I started to notice a few nervous ticks he had such as licking his left thumb exactly three times before turning each page, flicking his fringe out of his eyes ever five pages and after what seemed to be a chapter, drawing his legs to his chest and taking six deep breathes. I cocked my head to the side extremely intrigued by this boy; I hadn’t seen him in the children’s ward before.
Curiously I pulled myself to my feet and, supported by my walking frame, dragged myself to where he sat. I seemed to loom in front of for a moment before he looked up. He jumped a little but quickly recovered pushing himself up to stand in front of me, he was tiny at least half a head shorter than myself.
“Hi” he mumbled. He had a nice voice, the kind of voice that could sing someone to sleep.
“Hello” I replied “I’m Gerard” my response seemed rather menial but I did not want to scare him away with my antics just yet.
“Frank. You’ve got cancer” He said, a small smile tugged at the corner of my mouth.
“Ah but alas so I do. How unfortunate that I only find out now from some mysterious boy I just met. Quickly! We must venture around the world in search for a cure for my inevitably incurable tumour that has taken refuge in my kidneys” Frank let out the softest laugh.
“Yes! We must do all that I possible to save the poor soul of Gerard Last nameless!” He shoved the paperback into his pocket.
“Way” I added.
“Ah Gerard Way, the name of an adventurer none the less”
“Oh dear Frank you would not believe the wonders that I have seen! The terrors of the hospital food court, the perils of the ER and the everlasting dangers of the nurse’s staff room” Frank chuckled, dimples showing on his pale cheeks.
Suddenly Nurse Janine came trotting over alerting me that it was time to go back inside. I half smiled at Frank.
“Will you be here tomorrow? You’re the first human being I’ve meet in this place that I didn’t immediately want to punch in the face” I stage whispered. Frank put his hand to his stomach bowing his head.
“Oh course the great and wise adventurer Gerard Way” I smiled at him before turning to follow and obviously cranky Janine.
A/N: Well it’s 2.17 am here in Australia. I just couldn’t wait to right this! I had it all planned in my head and I just thought ‘fuck it! I’ll type it now dammit!’ so voila the first chapter or With Dying Words :D
~Always Leaves Love Alexandra.
Chapter One-
Obsession. Everyone has them maybe it’s cheesy cop shows or those ABBA records kept hidden away. Mine was dying words. The last words ever uttered by a person how moments had fleeted. My moment where fleeting. Memories slipping away in the passing breeze. The thought that in just one short year my moments will have fleeted. The weak, messy body that I have called home for the past seventeen years was falling and seemed to be determined to drag me down with it. But then again what much more is there to except then a slow, agonisingly painful death and the sinking feeling that you will not be remembered when you’re gone, when the tumour currently inhabiting your kidneys decided that ‘Hey! You know what; I think I will make myself incurable and excruciating just for laughs’. So that’s exactly what it did.
I think about the time when I was first told about my ‘sickness’. I remember Doctor Stine sitting me and my parents down nice and gently. He begun to talk about the latest football match when I had decided that I had a quite enough of this bullshit and demanded me tell me what was wrong with me. As I replay the scene over and over in my head I remember it to the letter.
“Yeah, yeah just cut the crap and tell me what’s going to happen to me” I snapped, making my state of unhappiness very clear. I had spent nearly two months in and out of hospitals and doctors surgery’s and still had now answers.
“Well Gerard, don’t say I didn’t sugar coat it” Doctor Stine cleared his throat, pushed his glasses up and shuffled some papers as if to make the whole situation even more dramatic.
“Gerard you’ve got stage three kidney cancer, quickly progressing to stage four. When you reach stage for you’ve got less than a 10% chance of living beyond five years”. My stomach dropped. I suddenly wished I hadn’t asked. I wished that I could stuff the words back down his throat, like if I hadn’t heard them that it wouldn’t be true.
Everything was silent for a few moments. Then my mother let out a blood curdling scream. A sour mixture of misery, sorrow and just good old pain. The noise echoing down the hall. Soon enough the screams dulled to a broken heave and she collapsed into my father’s arms, whose silent tears almost went unnoticed. I felt as if I was on one of those little tea cup rides, spinning round and round. But instead of being strapped on I was hanging of the side, desperately clinging to the side.
And now nearly two years later I was still alive and kicking. Well, if you can call ‘alive and kicking’ permanently living in the Children’s Cancer Ward at Marter Hill Hospital, hooked up to some many drugs and drips that I was sure it was unethical and no longer attended high school.
And so here I lay, staring up at the grainy ceiling waiting for death. Thinking about my last words. The once great Edgar Allan Poe’s dying words were ‘Lord help my poor soul’ which to me is the 1800’s equivalent of ‘I’ve done a lot of shit I’m not proud of’. But alas my dear Edgar there is no lord to help those whose souls are in desperate need of some assistance. And even when assistance is needed the lord has proceeded to do jack shit. Even for the 16 year old never been kissed cancer kid. But then again is the even a lord to give such help? For some people the more shit they go through the more they seem to trust God and Jesus but for me as I lay here dying I have seemed to have lost all faith in any religion.
Soon enough my regular nurse Janine comes into check on me and continue to inject useless drugs into my deceiving body.
“And how are you today Gerard?” she asked in her usual overly perky tone.
“Hmm let me think about that for a second dear Janine. Well seeing’s I’m lying in the proverbial space between life and death know to the common human as the Intensive Care Unit, slowly but nevertheless surely being consumed from the inside out but a cancerous growth and waiting for my craptacular body to shit out on me at any second, I think I would say that I am feeling superb! And you Nurse Janine?” for a long moment she just kind of stared at me, a dumbfounded expression scrunching up her usually pretty features.
“Oh come on Janine! You seriously didn’t expect me to answer with ‘Oh nurse I am feeling strong today! I think I will beat this thing any day now and then I can go home and be a real boy!’ did you?”
Once again the dumbfounded expression made its way to her face and she changed my IV in silence.
“Friends applaud, the comedy is over!” I quoted the last words of Beethoven, clapping my frail hands as she exited the room.
After lying there for god knows how long it was finally time for my afternoon stroll. Or outside playtime! As Nurse Janine liked to call it. I was unhooked from the majority of the drips, except my main IV and given a walking frame. I was escorted down the children’s garden and playground, and then left to my own devices.
As usual the playground and garden was virtually empty except for the odd nurse here and there to make sure that no one died whilst merrily climbing on the sad looking jungle gym. I walked, well when I say walked what I really mean is more like hobbled, over to the dank swing set my IV stand in my wake. I eased myself into the swing, pushing my walking frame to the side. I stared at my converse clad feet. I was able to change from my usual hospital gown into a pair of faded black straight cut jeans with a hole in the knee and a black Anthrax tee. I tugged at the black beanie partly covering my rat’s nest of badly dyed black hair and ever so slightly swung on the creaky set.
I shoved my iPod headphones in and softly played Iron Maiden, until unexpectedly someone else wandered out into the garden. He had hair nearly the same bottle black hair that I did; his thick fringe fell into his greeny, brown eyes. He wore a pair of black jeans so constricting that I was sure he was to pass out at any moment, a black tee advertising his like for the band Hawthorne Heights, a black and purple checked hoddie and purple Chuck Taylors.
He waltzed over to the far end of the garden and sat against a tree, producing a battered paperback from his enormous jumper pockets. As I continued to stare at him I started to notice a few nervous ticks he had such as licking his left thumb exactly three times before turning each page, flicking his fringe out of his eyes ever five pages and after what seemed to be a chapter, drawing his legs to his chest and taking six deep breathes. I cocked my head to the side extremely intrigued by this boy; I hadn’t seen him in the children’s ward before.
Curiously I pulled myself to my feet and, supported by my walking frame, dragged myself to where he sat. I seemed to loom in front of for a moment before he looked up. He jumped a little but quickly recovered pushing himself up to stand in front of me, he was tiny at least half a head shorter than myself.
“Hi” he mumbled. He had a nice voice, the kind of voice that could sing someone to sleep.
“Hello” I replied “I’m Gerard” my response seemed rather menial but I did not want to scare him away with my antics just yet.
“Frank. You’ve got cancer” He said, a small smile tugged at the corner of my mouth.
“Ah but alas so I do. How unfortunate that I only find out now from some mysterious boy I just met. Quickly! We must venture around the world in search for a cure for my inevitably incurable tumour that has taken refuge in my kidneys” Frank let out the softest laugh.
“Yes! We must do all that I possible to save the poor soul of Gerard Last nameless!” He shoved the paperback into his pocket.
“Way” I added.
“Ah Gerard Way, the name of an adventurer none the less”
“Oh dear Frank you would not believe the wonders that I have seen! The terrors of the hospital food court, the perils of the ER and the everlasting dangers of the nurse’s staff room” Frank chuckled, dimples showing on his pale cheeks.
Suddenly Nurse Janine came trotting over alerting me that it was time to go back inside. I half smiled at Frank.
“Will you be here tomorrow? You’re the first human being I’ve meet in this place that I didn’t immediately want to punch in the face” I stage whispered. Frank put his hand to his stomach bowing his head.
“Oh course the great and wise adventurer Gerard Way” I smiled at him before turning to follow and obviously cranky Janine.
A/N: Well it’s 2.17 am here in Australia. I just couldn’t wait to right this! I had it all planned in my head and I just thought ‘fuck it! I’ll type it now dammit!’ so voila the first chapter or With Dying Words :D
~Always Leaves Love Alexandra.
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