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Post by CelticCailín on Nov 13, 2011 1:50:03 GMT -5
I lay down on top of my purple and teal striped bedspread, staring at the ceiling. I wanted sleep to come, to dream and not think of all the problems of reality.
Suddenly, my iPhone rang obscenely loudly. The ringtone got a halfhearted laugh out of me. It was Happy Birthday Sweet Sixteen. It had been set to that by him almost three years ago now, and I hadn't changed it.
I grabbed my phone from the nighttable, checking my caller ID.
Emmett Mc Ginty, his older brother. Let it go to voicemail. Normally, I'd talk to his brother anytime, but not now. I was too consumed with my own predicaments.
Conor Mc Ginty. Nope.
Neil Byrne. Voicemail.
Ryan Kelly. Not now.
Keith Harkin. Pass.
Emmet Cahill. Maybe later.
George Donaldson. Nah.
Gemma Mc Ginty. Next time.
Sharon Browne. Tempting to answer her call; maybe she could help me. But no.
Damian Mc Ginty. No. True, he was the one I should be talking to about this, seeing how much he was a part of it as I had been. Maybe I'd talk to him later. Or tomorrow. Or next week.
Damian bombarded me with text messages after I didn't answer any of their calls.
Damian: Are you ok? Damian: What's wrong with you? Damian: Seriously Dierdre, talk to me please. Damian: Why aren't you talking to me? Damian: You're worrying me now. Damian: Do you want me to come over, I do only live a block away. Damian: Fine, I'll try and ring you again tomorrow. Night.
I turned off my phone, and curled up under my blankets, still in my jeans and NWRC sweatshirt on. My mam came into my room, light from the hallway flooded my room that I had plunged into darkness. I shot her an annoyed look.
'Damian wants to talk to you. He called the landline.' she held out the phone to me. Normally, when she said this, I jumped up eagerly, and talked to him for hours. Not today. I shoved my pillow over my head, and grunted out of annoyance.
'Tell him I'm asleep.' I said, barely audible from under the pillow.
'She's asleep. He said he heard you talk just now.'
'Aagh!' I said.
'Do you want me to tell him about--?' started my mam.
'No, I'll tell him, but not now.'
'Okay. Goodnight.'
She left, shutting the door behind her. I felt bad for pushing away the ones I should be holding tight, especially him. But now, I just couldn't bring myself to tell them the truth.
I tossed and turned all night, barely sleeping, haunted by the truth, scared of what their reactions would be when they finally knew what was going on. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~%€££££|¥ so, continue, yes or no?
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Post by angelmcfay on Nov 13, 2011 4:48:53 GMT -5
you hav 2 continue:)
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Post by CelticCailín on Nov 13, 2011 11:26:32 GMT -5
The sun shone brightly down on the crisp, clear November morning. Lazily, I made my way downstairs to the kitchen. There was a note on the kitchen table.
'Damian and Gemma rang for you again. I'm to Belfast for a few hours to the day, his mum said it's alright for you to go over and stay, if ya like. Tell him, and the rest of them the truth. Damian deserves to know. You would want him to tell you. He'll be able to deal with it, trust him. Love you x Mam'
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Post by celticbear on Nov 13, 2011 21:03:05 GMT -5
DEIDRE! You have to continue this one! You had me hooked from the start of the unanswered text's and phone calls!
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Post by HburgEagle44 on Nov 13, 2011 21:37:45 GMT -5
Hollllyyyyy cow!! updateeeeee!! please! This is a great beginning!!
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Post by CelticCailín on Nov 14, 2011 0:59:06 GMT -5
Quickly, I made myself a hasty breakfast of toast with pumpkin butter left over from Samhain, and a cup of tea with two sugars. I was about to call Gemma back, but she beat me to the punch.
'H'lo, Dierdre?' she asked.
'Hey, Gemma. Craic?'
'Not much, just rang up to tell you that my mum told me to tell you to come over for the day since your mam's down Belfast. How about an hour from now?' she told me.
'Sounds good, I'll be there. Damian's there, right?'
She snorted into the phone.
'Of course he's here, sleeping like a log above! I swear, that boy could sleep through an earthquake. Why do you ask?' I'd piqued her interest now.
'Ok, I was just wondering. See ya soon.'
'Bye, Dierdre.'
'Bye, Gemma.' I replied.
And then the line went dead.
I ran upstairs, quickly showered, and pulled on my long blue-green and grey horizontal striped sweater, black leggings, and black calf high boots with the bronze clasps. I left my wavy hair down, scrunchin some mousse into it. I pulled on a green jacket, and raced back downstairs, grabbing my phone on the way.
Grabbing my umbrella, I braced myself against the cold blast of November air. It wasn't raining, and I'd only a block to walk, but here up North, it could turn to rain at the drop of a hat.
I sent my mam a quick text message: Me: Mam, I'm going to Gemma's. I'm going to tell Damian today.
She replied almost instantly, as if she'd been waiting for my message.
'Good, it should help getting it off your chest. Luck.'
I walked up the so-familiar porch steps, running my hand over the red brick walls. Just like my own home, my home away from home.
Before I could even knock at the door, Gemma opened it and said hello. I returned her greeting. Seeing me, Emmett jumped up from his spot on the couch in front of the tele, where a footy match was on, of course. He lifted me into a hello hug, then put me down and stepped back.
'Hi, Mc Ginty.' I said.
'Hey yourself, McCann.'
'How's you?' I said, making small talk.
'Good, and you?'
'I've been better.' I said quietly.
'Something wrong, Dee?'
'Nah, 's fine Emmett. Don't worry.' I assured him.
'Alright then, if ya say so.'
'Where's the football mad lad?' I questioned.
'Your man is upstairs, sleeping the day away, but that's nothing new for him on Saturdays. Hold on a second.'
Emmett ran upstairs, and I heard a mattress being dumped onto the floor, and a sleepy and confused Damian getting annoyed at his brother dumping him onto the floor to wake him up.
'Guess who's here, sleeping beauty?' I heard Emmett ask him.
'She's here?'
'Mhm, downstairs. Get a move on, Damo!'
Five seconds later, he was downstairs, clad in grey sweatpants, a Man U sweatshirt, and mismatched socks, he ran a hand throuh his bedhead-ravaged hair, rubbing sleep from his eyes. I had to admit, he looked a lot better than most people did in the mornings! Sleepy actually looked pretty cute on him, I had to say.
He walked over and gave me a quick hug.
'Hey, love.' he greeted me.
'Hi Damian. Can we talk, private like; there's something I need to tell you.' I whispered into his ear.
'Yeah sure, let's go upstairs.'
I plodded up the stairs after him, sitting myself down crisscross on his red comforter. Manchester United and Take That posters were plastered on his side of the room, a pair of green Converse peeking out from under his bed, footy shoes from his closet. Just like every other lad, a bit messy, I thought. I felt as comfortable in his house as he did at mine, we'd grown up childhood friends.
'So, what was it you wanted to talk to me about?' he asked, settling himself down opposite me, crisscross.
'I found out something yesterday, and only me and my mam know. I knew I'd have to tell you, and everyone sooner or later, but yesterday I just couldn't bring myself to answer anyone's calls. It was a hard day for me.'
'Okay, I understand where you're coming from.' he was sympathetic.
'I was at the doctor's yesterday, Damian.'
'What's that supposed to mean?' he was a bit confused.
'It was just routine stuff, but my blood cell test results were a bit wonky, like. White blood cell count is way down from where it should normally be.'
'Mhm..' he was trying to figure out where I was going with this.
'This is so hard for me to say, probably the hardest thing I've ever had to do in my entire life. My life was turned upside down, and now I have to; unforunately do the same to yours.'
His blue eyes were full of concern, and he was holding both my hands in his. I took a deep breath, readying myself for shattering his world. And then I uttered the three words that nobody ever wants to have to hear or say.
'I have cancer.' I said softly, avoiding his gaze. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I'm trying to write what I couldnt bring myself to in my non CT story on here, I scrapped that idea, but maybe fictionalizing it a bit more will make this easier to write, hopefully. What do you think so far?
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Post by CelticCailín on Nov 14, 2011 1:56:29 GMT -5
'What kind is it?' he asked gently, obviously sensing this was a hard topic for me.
'ALL, acute lymphoblastic leukemia. It's not terminal, thank Jaysus for little things.'
'Are ya getting treated, now?'
'Not yet, in two weeks I've to get a medi-port put in so they can start the chemotherapy as soon as possible so to give me the best chance they can. They were good about telling me, acted like they cared, didn't just shurk off me questions, believe me, I had a lot!' I explained.
'Questions like? And what's a medi-port?'
'Questions like, will I lose my hair, how long is chemo, will I die, how much will I be in hospital, stuff like that.' I was trig to be nonchalant while it was scary to talk about it.
'What would the answers be?' he was concerned, and had every right to be!
'Yes, I will lose most if not all of my hair, I've at least a 50/50 chance of beating it, a week inpatient after each chemo round. A port is a little machine they put in your chest, it's how they give the chemo drugs.'
He didn't speak, just pulled me close to him. We sat there, not talking, for about ten minutes till Gemma walked in. His face was buried in my hair, and I had my face in his chest, needing to feel some kind of normal, which was impossible, given the circumstances.
I could tell she was going to make some kind of slag on our mushiness, when she saw a tear roll down his face. He didn't normally cry, and for him to be emotional set off bells to his sister that something was very wrong with either me or himself. She sat on the edge of his bed, and chose her words carefully.
'What's wrong, you two?' she asked quietly.
'Dee has leukemia, Gem.'
'My God.. We're here for you. When did you find out?'
'Yesterday.' I managed to squeak out.
After I'd explained to Gemma what I'd just finished telling Damian, she quietly snuck out and downstairs. Straining my ears, I heard a plate clatter to the floor in the kitchen where their mum was finishing up the dishes from the morning's fry-up. I hears a gasp, and an,'Dear Christ...' from Mrs.McGinty. Gemma had told her, I didn't mind, they would all know soon enough. Emmett walled into the kitchen, and I heard Gemma tell him as well. He had no words.
A minute later, Emmett was standing in the doorframe.
'I heard, Gemma told us. Just telling you, we all will be here to help in any way we can. I don't want to sit and watch someone who I consider to be a little sister go through something like this with no help. 'S What my mum told me to tell you.'
'Thanks, Emmett. Tell her I say thanks, too. Means alot to me.' I said gratefully.
'Don't mention it.' he disappeared to another part of the house.
I turned back to Damian.
'Sorry I put a damper on your Saturday morning.' I said.
'You didn't, it's not your fault. And I agree one hundred percent with what my brother just said.'
'Alrii. What say we go watch Man U kick some Chelsea butt?' I suggested, trying to lighten the suddenly dark mood.
'Sure, why not?'
We walked downstairs, him not letting go of my hand, as if he didn't trust me not to fall, or maybe he was the one who did t trust himself not to fall.
Sitting on the blue couch, it was almost the same as every other time, every other match we'd watched together. Almost, but not quite. This time, he didn't yell encouragement at the players like he usually did. He was unusually quiet, and so was I. I think we both knew what the other was thinking, but neither of us could quite manage to put into words.
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Post by angelmcfay on Nov 14, 2011 3:37:50 GMT -5
omg i never cry about storys this is a first love the story tho.
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Post by CelticCailín on Nov 14, 2011 3:43:38 GMT -5
Thanks! I will update in a few minutes.
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Post by CelticCailín on Nov 14, 2011 4:19:04 GMT -5
My mobile rang suddenly. Damian chuckled at the ringtone, that I'd still kept it the same, after three years. I glanced down at the screen, it was my oncologist.
'Hello?' I answered.
'Yes, Ms.McCann, we've had to move up your case to tomorrow for the port to be put in. It seems as if there are more cancerous cells than we first thought. So, surgery is now scheduled for 10am tomorrow, okay?'
'Yes, I understand. Thank you, goodbye.' I said flatly, and hung up.
'Who was that?'
'My oncologist-cancer doctor. It's not two weeks from now, it's been bumped up to tomorrow. It's worse than they originally thought it was. 10am tomorrow morning, so I guess I can't stay as long as I usually do here.' I said.
'They're starting chemo tomorrow?!?' he was worried, his eyebrows furrowed in thought and concern.
'Yep, and I'm not particularly looking forward to it, but it's a small price to pay for my life, that's how I see it, anyway.'
'Have you told everyone else yet?'
'No, I'll conference call them all and tell them to get over here.' I replied.
One phone call and twenty minutes later, everyone knew what was happening, the mystery behind the unanswered calls was solved, but my road ahead was a long and hard one, I knew that. They all said basically the same as Emmett and Damian, that they would stand by me. I appreciated them all, they were my second family, and not many people in this world could say they have a great blood family, and an amazing group of close friends that are so much like family, people that will do anything to help in any way that they possibly can. In that respect, I consider myself to be very, very blessed. I have three Mams, my Mam, Damian's mum, and Sharon! And a whole bunch of almost big brothers, an almost big sister, and the very best lad any girl could ever wish for.
I hoped they'd enough to get me through this.
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Post by CelticCailín on Nov 14, 2011 5:13:58 GMT -5
Another phone rang shrilly, it wasn't mine this time, but Damian's.
'H'lo? What do you mean... TOMORROW?!? I'm sorry, but I can't come back tomorrow.. Contract? Oh, alright then. Bye.'
He snapped his phone off angrily.
'What's the problem?' I asked, puzzled as to why he was so upset all of a sudden.
'Ryan Murphy just called me. He says I have to leave tonight, and be on set for filming my next couple of episodes of Glee.'
I knew his break at home wouldn't and couldn't be very long, but it had only been two days, he was supposed to be home for two weeks more! I knew he absolutely had to go back to work, but why oh why did work have to be half the world away when I needed him so badly now? I would just have to suck it up and deal with it, there was no other option. It wasn't like he could just not show up to set tomorrow, he'd be fired. America was behind us in Ireland, time-wise; but he'd to catch the 4pm flight to LA so he wouldn't be completely jet-lagged when he was called to set.
'I wish I didn't have to go, I know the timing is absolutely horrible.' he apologized, when he had nothing to be sorry for.
'Its okay, I can Skype you if they let me before my chemo. If you're not busy then.'
'I shouldn't be. It's a date, then.'
'A Skype date, you in America, me here.' I said.
I knew he hated the idea of leaving so soon after he'd arrived, but his work schedule could be erratic sometimes, I knew that from when he had been in Celtic Thunder, and the sometimes long days they'd pulled whilst touring, the many phone calls, the endless Skype sessions until we'd both been yelled at to get off our computers- him by Sharon, me by my Mam.
He quickly jammed some clothes into one of his many suitcases he owned, and too soon, we'd to drive him to the airport to see him off. We all tried to stretch out what little time we had with him, but all too soon, the final boarding call for British Airlines B279 to Los Angeles via London Heathrow was announced. First, his family said their goodbyes quickly. Then, I was the only one left who hadn't said goodbye yet. I felt sadness build into a ball in the pit of my stomach, and tried to squash it down best as I could.
He stroked my hair once, running his fingers through my reddish-brown strands.
'Last time I'll see those, huh?' he was talking about my hair.
'I guess so, yeah. Never knew you cared so much about hair!' I joked.
'Hate to see your beautiful hair go.'
'That makes two of us, then. I'll either Skype or call you tomorrow after I get the port, but before I get sick from the drugs, so I can still talk somewhat properly. When's next time your home?' I asked.
He sighed, long and regretfully.
'Sadly, next I'll see you in person is Christmas. If I had it my way, I'd--' I cut him off, putting a finger to his lips to silence him.
'Shh.. I'll manage okay, trust me. Nevermind your own way, we can't have control over everything in life. See you in a month..' my last sentence sounded forlorn as I spoke it.
'Try and stay as healthy as you possibly can, I mean it. I want this Christmas to be a happy one, not a sad one.'
'You're going to miss your plane if we keep on like this.' I pointed out.
'You're right. Not goodbye, but see ya later, yeah?'
'Yeah. Love you, lad. Have fun in L.A. filming.' I said, putting on a completely fake happy expression and a plastic smile.
'Love you too. I'll be back soon.'
And with one last quick kiss and hug, he disappeared down the JetWay off again to his television job in America.
The whole ride back, I didn't cry. But I thanked the Mc Ginty's for having me over for the day, then I went home.
Mam wasn't back yet, so it was just me in the yellow house. I ran up to my room, collapsed onto my bed, grabbing the kilted Teddy bear I'd gotten from him as part of my birthday present, way back at the beginning of September. It smelled just like him, like a fresh rainfall, but also a bit musky; he'd sprayed it with his cologne, and it still, but just barely had his scent on it's fur.
I usually don't sleep during the day, but I was upset over him having to leave, over the cancer being worse than I'd been told it was, having to start inpatient treatment tomorrow; it was just all too much for me to take in and have to deal with all at once.
I fell asleep, salty tears staining my pillows, and the tan teddy's fur.
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Post by CelticCailín on Nov 14, 2011 13:00:07 GMT -5
I felt myself being gently shaken awake. It was my mam, back from Belfast.
'How'd it go?' she asked me.
'They all know, they took it as well as possibly could be expected. But... Damian's gone again; he had to leave for Glee.' I whispered into the bear's fur, thinking of him, but torn about the pain of knowing he wouldn't be there tomorrow.
'Aw, I'm sorry love.' my mam hugged me tight; like hugs could make all the tears, and the cancer that wanted to kill me go away.
'I know he had to go, but I really wanted him to be here tomorrow because I'm scared. I don't know what's goin to happen, I'm so scared, Mam.' I said, voice cracking in spots as I spoke.
'It'll be okay, just you wait and see. He'll be back before you know it, and all the others are here for you. Don't forget that. Are you hungry for something, I can go look in the press if ya like.'
'No; I'm not hungry. I'm just going to go to sleep.'
'Okay, sleep tight.' she kissed my forehead, then disappeared down the hall, out my bedroom door.
That whole night I was plagued with nightmares. I dreamed the chemo made me so sick that I couldn't stop retching, even though there was nothing to bring up any more. And I saw everyone there, circled round me, and I saw Damian on the edge, when I reached out for his hand, mine went through his, like he was a ghost, not physically there, but I thought I'd seen him. They told me the drugs weren't working, I had no hair, thin as a rail, all mournful chocolate brown eyes is left in a face with nothing else but pain. I was dying, dying a slow, painful, and merciless death, and this time, he wasn't there to save me, or at least try and make me feel better. A whole month till he'd be home. His words echoed in my ears,
'I want this Christmas to be a happy one, not a sad one. I mean that.'
I silently promised I would give him his wish, a happy Christmas, with me there.
I woke up in a cold sweat, gasping for air. I put a hand to my head, expecting to feel nothing but my scalp, but my hair was all there still. It had all been a horrible dream, but how much of it would actually come true?!?
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Post by CelticCailín on Nov 14, 2011 15:47:22 GMT -5
It was five am here in Derry, I noticed that as I glanced at my alarm clock. So, in California it was nine at night the day before. He was probably still on set. Five hours till I went under, but I had to be there in an hour and a half. My mam knocked lightly on the door, and for a moment, I thought of when Da had been with us. Mam and himself had gotten a divorce years ago, and he's moved back to live in Michigan with his new wife. He only married her for the citizenship, she learned afters. Live and learn, she'd told me time and again. Da didn't know I was sick, in mam's eyes he ceased to exist now. He was a memory, a distant figure that I could see dimly in the corners of my memory from my childhood, like some far dream that one could only remember slightly, but never re-live it again.
Snapping out of my reverie, I looked over, and she had came to sit beside me, I sat up against the headboard.
'You okay?' she asked me.
'As okay as I can be, I guess.'
'The doctors said you can't eat, but you can drink if you want. I've packed you a bag for the next week. They'll meet us at the hospital.' she told me.
'I'm not really thirsty. 'M fine.'
'Get out of bed, come downstairs, please.' she said politely.
I sleepily padded down the stairs to the kitchen, my MacBook was sitting on the counter, powered on.
'Did I leave it turned on?' I asked sleepily.
'No, go look.'
I glanced at the screen, it was open to my Skype account. Nobody was online.
'Mam, he's not online. He's on set, filming like.' I told her.
'Sure? Check again.'
I did, and there was him in the middle of a group of people. It took a second to register who they were, it was the cast of Glee!
'H'lo, Dierdre.' said Damian.
'Hey, Damo. What's going on?'
'Nothing, just got a quick break from shooting. They wanted to meet you, been asking after you since I started here!' He turned to them and spoke.
'That's my girlfriend, Dierdre McCann. She's back in Derry, it's early tomorrow morning there.' he introduced me.
They all said hello at once, eager to 'meet' me.
'This is so class, ne'er thought I'd be Skyping people from Glee!' I exclamined.
I am a Glee fan as well as Damian, he got me interested in the show back in 2009.
'You Skype me all the time, and I'm on Glee.' he said cheekily.
'Hardy har har, Mc Ginty. Cracker, you are. Guess what, our team lost the match, pitch was a right mess, lousy match, it was.'
'Did you watch it last night?' he asked me.
'Yeah, if by watching you mean Emmett giving me a play by play over the phone.'
'Typical.'
'Yup, same as ever, that one.' I agreed.
By now, the rest of them had gone back to set, and it was just him on the webcam.
'So, few more hours left, yeah?' he asked.
'Yeah, me and mam are leaving soon, meeting up with 'em all there. Chemo shouldn't be too hard since I'll be drugged up from getting the port, but who really knows. I wish you were here, but I know you had to go.'
'I wish I was there, too. Call me after, before the drugs kick in?' he asked.
'I'll try.'
I heard someone yell for Damian, and I knew he'd have to hang up shortly. He sighed.
'That'd be Robert, I have to go, unfortunately.'
He touched the screen with his palm, and I did too, as if we could break the thousands of miles that separated us.
'Bye.' I whispered.
'Bye, love.'
And my screen went black.
CALL TO DAMIAN ENDED, read the screen.
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Post by meg_cahill21 on Nov 14, 2011 16:17:48 GMT -5
OMG!!! she has to live!!! and this is REALy good...UPDATE SOON!!!!
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Post by CelticCailín on Nov 14, 2011 17:01:34 GMT -5
I will. thanks, it's just my random thoughts really, haha.
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