What tests? Piano tests? But it’s called exams and it’s in August. What is she talking about?
9 July 2005
I went to see an oncologist today. I was praying very earnestly that it was a mistake and that the doctor will look at us questioningly and correct our mistake. I am not sick!!! I refuse to be sick!!!
If at first I didn’t know what she was, I knew when I saw her front door. It stated, Dr. Salasty, Cancer Specialist. God, oh no, oh no, oh no….
There was a lot of mumbo-jumbo going on in that room. I couldn’t remember what she was talking about. Medical words just zoom across the room. Finally, I couldn’t take it and blurted out, “Just get to the point! What is wrong with me?”
My mum started to cry and my dad looked stony faced. Dr. Salasty took my hands in hers and said, “My dear girl, I wish I didn’t have to tell you this. You are diagnosed with bone cancer”.
I don’t remember anything after that, only that the world went black.
6 September 2005
Chemotherapy started today. I feel wretchedly sick to my stomach practically all the time. I just feel like dying. I feel so weak nowadays. Dr. Salasty told me that I can’t have visitors because chemotherapy wipes out all my cells in the body, including the good ones. Therefore, I won’t have any white blood cells to defend myself from even the slightest common cold.
Why me? What did I do to deserve this? Was I not kind enough? Of all the people, why did it have to be me? I can’t even cry my misery because I have dehydrated myself out. I want my old life back. I haven’t touched the piano in ages. I miss it….
4 October 2005
I am still in the hospital. I wish I could be anywhere but here. I wonder whether I’ll ever be able to play the piano again. The doctors are so against me going back home. Don’t they realise that music is my life? If they take it away, what will I have left? Even my parents aren’t allowed to visit! What do they want me to do? Die in here???
16 November 2005
This is so hard for me to say. My eyes are already blurring. Whenever I think of what this will be to me, tears flood my eyes. I cannot do it… but if I don’t, I will die. I was foolish to think that my eyes cannot produce anymore tears. Apparently I still can….
I will take a deep breath…. I want to live! I want to be able to be the best pianist in the world! I want to be able to inspire many through my music, to give them hope! But I cannot have both. I cannot…. I have to choose….
I choose to live.
Therefore, my hand must go….
That was my last entry in my diary. Well, I can’t write much without my right hand.