and for someone who smokes at least 6 Winfield Reds a day, that was hard. On Friday, I came home from the hospital, sat on the couch and felt like I had been repeatedly run over by a crane. I flicked the tv on and fell asleep (I don’t really sleep unless I deem it completely necessary, I only really sleep a few hours per night and NEVER sleep during the day). I had an insane temperature and my glans were swollen. Next morning I went to the doctors and was told I have tonsilitis AGAIN (no immune system means I have an infection/virus of sorts every couple of weeks) and need to take penicillin for a few weeks. That wasn’t the awful part.

“You can’t see your grandmother for 10 days?” said the doctor calmly. “10 DAYS?” I half shrieked, half yelled. “With a viral infection, you cant see a patient with lymphoma for 10 days,” he said ever so calmly and slowly. “Isn’t there anything you can do to speed that up?” I asked, biting down on my lip, trying hard not to burst into tears. “It doesnt matter what I give you, an injection or pills, you still can’t see a patient with lymphoma for 10 days,” said the doctor. So I stood up, walked out of the doctors clinic, walked into the neighboring chemist (which my dad actually happened to be working in) and cried for an hour.

My grandmother has had lymphoma (a type of cancer in the blood) for many years, but has been in remission with occasional treatment to keep it steady. Then in Novemeber last year, she got sick with a virus and had a stiff back. Next thing we knew she was frail and vomiting. Her specialist rushed her into the hospital, checked her blood count and pretty much said “Fuck.” Her blood count had gotten extremely low and the cancer was well out of remission with an agressive lymphoma raging through her system.

Every day after school, I was at the hospital. Every night, I was at my grandfathers. My grandfather and I moved in together and I became his surrogate wife, cooking, cleaning, ironing, washing. Then after 6-7 weeks in hospital and 3 rounds of chemotherapy, my grandmother came home in order to rest and recover for her next round of treatment in four weeks.

So every day I was at there house, keeping her comfortable, happy and as entertained as I could.  I would prepare her her lunch, then duck out to the cinemas while she and my grandfather ate and watched tv. The amount of times I turned up places looking like a mess, half dressed, no make up and smelling of the food I had just prepared, is just really not funny.

Four weeks later, another round of treatment. All goes well. 4 days later, she is home.

But then, she stops getting better. Infact she starts getting worse. She is throwing up, loosing her hair, frail, and not making any progress. One night she threw up and was extremley sweaty, all night in her sleep she kept calling out for me and my grandfather. Every time I her her call out for me, I would rush to her room, only to find she was asleep. The next morning her specialist re-admitted her to the hospital, where he is now, undergoing radiotherapy in an attempt to shrink and control the lymphoma.

So now I sit around impatiently waiting for 10 days to be over, so that I can finally be with her again. This is day 4. I speak to her on the phone a few times a day, but she misses me and I her, and as one of her main carers, I feel useless and stupid away from  her. No one is really there now to talk to the nurses and translate the doctors lengthy monologues into greek or just to sit by her and keep her company.

Tomorrow is day 5 and I am halfway there.

Shit just loves happening to me and my friends. We have had an unusual amount of bad luck and really awful crap just keeps on happening. Surely by know, it must be someone else’s turn? But no. One Wednesday, Scarlet’s grandmother died. Sadly and suddenly. Scarlet has been a secret mess and today is the funeral. Naturally, we are all going to support her. But the person she most wants there, Paul, she wouldn’t tell to come. “I don’t want to bother him!” she sighed to me and Emma yesterday. “He’s busy and stuff…” she said vaguely. “Getting high is not busy!!” angrily exclaimed Emma. Emma and I know Scarlet a little too well and could tell she was lying through her brace covered teeth. She needed him there. So I texted Paul while Emma kept Paul company.

Now Paul, if you happen to read this one day, okay, sorry. I was a bit abrupt and slightly high and mighty. Actually, I reminded myself a bit of Joel (Joelene, I love you and you know that). But Paul I had to be quick with you. She really wants you and needs you to come. 

I know its far away, and it might be slightly uncomfortable to spend an hour and half in a car with me and Emma’s mum or something, but please think about doing it for her. If you don’t come, I will not hold it against you, as much as I want you to be there for her. (though I can’t say the same about Emma, that girl knows how to hold a grudge) Scarlet is stubborn, and surely by know you have learnt to hear what she wont say.

I need a smoke.