"Turn away If you could get me a drink, of water 'cause my lips are chapped and faded call my aunt marie help her gather all my things and bury me in all my favorite colors my sisters and my brothers still I will not kiss you 'cause the hardest part of this is leaving you Now turn away 'cause i'm awful just to see 'cause all my hairs abandoned all my body oh my agony know that i will never marry baby i'm just soggy from the chemo but counting down the days to go It just ain't living And I just hope you know that if you say goodbye today I'd ask you to be true 'cause the hardest part of this is leaving you 'cause the hardest part of this is leaving you " I've just got an account on here, simply so I could post a comment on the song Cancer, by My Chemical Romance. (My comment's on page 5) My friend sent me a CD today. Usually, I'll find My Chemical Romance songs are easy to relate to, and easy to listen to. I can get hyper to them, I can dance wildly to them, I can even lose myself in them, or listen to them full blast from my headphones to let the song really drill in to my mind because I feel it's powerful. That shows how passionate I am about some songs and bands, especially because My Chemical Romance doesn't even make it in to my Top 20 favourite bands list. Anyway. I'd also bought an Iron Maiden album, Disturbed, and a Roadrunner United albums that day, yet the first to be played was My Chemical Romance, since I was so curious to hear the songs my friends had been fanatical about, songs that I'd seen people buzz off in MySpace bulletins, and songs from which lyrics were typed (disgracefully, may I add) in to MSN screen names. The first song I chose to play was Teenagers, since this was one of two of the only songs I'd managed to download off their album before, when I was curious to know what they sounded like now they had "matured their sound". I love this song, I think it's simply fantastic, and it's made it on my my iPod "on the go" list, one of around eighty songs. Out of a possible one thousand and twenty-seven. I followed this song with "The Black Parade", this was the second of the two songs I'd managed to download around a month ago. Then, my attention was drawn to track 8. My friend's little sister loved this song, she kept talking on about how brilliant she found it to be. On the 17th of January this year, I lost my Dad to cancer. An odd story, really. It's an example of why I believe in fate... The previous Thursday I had awoken in agony, and was taken to hospital whilst throwing up vile, fluoescent yellow gunge. I threw up the pain killers they gave me, and I screamed at the injection I was given to help stop the vomit, which I had done about once or twice every 10 minutes as from half past six that morning, the time being around 10am by now. At last I was told I might possibly have appendicitus, and I was attached to a water drip since I wasn't to eat or drink before the operation. However, my body rejected the drip, and I lay shaking in spasm on my hospital bed for around an hour, before falling asleep out of pure exhaustion. At half past four that afternoon I was wheeled to theatre, and drugged to sleep, waking up almost three hours later with three holes in my stomach, once again I was shaking uncontrollably. "Dad..." "She's waking up now" "Dad..." Everyone's faces were blurred. Five-eyed monsters were staring down at me, I was being prodded by creatures I couldn't identify, although I knew their voices to be my ward nurse and my mother's. I couldn't stop shaking, even when I was back in the ward and in the dark with nothing to do but sleep. Shaking, spasming, sweating... "Daddd..." Something was wrong with him. I got out of hospital on the Saturday, and begged my mother to let me return home to my Dad, I needed to see him. Something was wrong with him. I needed him... Monday came, we went to my school to collect books. I was hobbling, in severe discomfort, occasional shooting pains, stabbing at my stomach like a white-hot blade piercing the flesh. Unable to laugh without also screaming in agony. Finally, some few hours later, we arrived in Middlesbrough, I wanted to see me Dad. I needed to see him. "Prepare yourself", a nurse had said, "You won't recognise him..." Once again, I was shaking. I'd entered the room, and also entered pure shock. My mouth hung open without my realisation. Eight days ago, I'd left my Father at Durham Teesvalley Airport. He'd walked with me, although assisted by a walking stick. He'd kissed me... He'd said goodbye. I'd been told Easter. he might not live until Easter, but he may also live for two more years. I was hanging on for Easter. Live until Easter, please live until Easter. I'm begging you... I need you Dad...". He'd said goodbye to me like he'd known he'd never see me again, like he'd known that would be the last thing he'd ever say to me. "I'm so proud of you, you've made me so proud... I love you so much. You've been my pride and joy for 15 years. I know you'll continue to be brilliant." "I love you Dad... I'll see you soon... I'll always make you proud, I'll never stop trying..." "-Boarding Call-" "Bye, Dad. I'll see you soon. I love you so much" By this point I'd regretted even wearing makeup, as I had solid black streams of mascara down my cheeks, no where near my eyes where it was meant to me. As I saw him laying in that bed, I felt my heart being wrenched roughly from my chest, I felt it being ripped in to a thousand small pieces, and I felt it being screwed up and shoved back down my throat. I felt my legs crumble beneith me. This wasn't the man I'd left only eight days previous, this was a skeleton dressed haphazzardly in ghoulish skin. After a few minutes of shock, I let it sink in that this man... No, this THING infront of me, this hopeless heap of skin and bone infront of me was the living dead. Someone who was too sick, too weak to live, but who Life was holding cruely by the shoulders, tauntingly allowing his toes to ripple the water of a world where he'd leave his pain behind. The three small steps I had to take forwards to stand by his side were the hardest things I'd ever had to do before. Finally, I was stood beside him. "Dad.... It's me..." I saw his eyes moisten, I saw his tongue move in his gaping mouth, I saw the struggle he was going through. His hand moved. Only slightely at first, but the actions got more violent. Moving the thin bedsheet away, I gently clasped his cold hand in mine, and his movement stopped, he only squeazed my hand, and then relaxed. "Well, are you going to say anything to him?", Came the cold-hearted and impatient voice of my mother. What could I say? What do you say to someone in this state ? How do you hold a conversation with someone unable to communicate ? After ten minutes, I could stand it no more. I kissed his forehead, told him I loved him, I was recovering well from my operation, and that I needed to sleep. Locating some lollipop-like pink-sponge-cubes-on-sticks, I dupped it in water, and moistened his dry mouth and lips. Then left him for the night. On Tuesday, I brough him his paper, I read out the headlines and some random sentences, still unable to think of what to say. I was relieved slightely when Enid and Malcom arrived. Bless them, the most kind hearted couple on the face of the earth, it's unfortunate that they area also the most excruciatingly boring. I left them with him, and went for another of my walks. This particular one lasted about 3 or so hours... And it didn't help in the slightest, all it did was help me burn off the calories from the coffee I'd had at the Hospice. Wednesday, I was better. Determind to talk to him. I began slowly, commenting on the weather, and how I was, moving on to my school work, my incompetant maths teacher. Then I was in full flow, and for almost two hours I told him everything I'd wanted to talk to him about for ages. My plans for my life, what I wanted to achieve. Aspirations I've never told anyone about before. Fears, hopes, dreams... Evreything that was on my mind. I told him what I was planning on doing with things. I told him I was ready. I told him that I loved him, but I couldn't stand to see him like this, I told him that the man who was squezing my hand was not my father, my father was a happy, chubby, beer-aholic, spicey-indian loving father, who could pick me up and spin me round with ease and who read me stories at night. (Yes, I am 15, so what of it ?) I told him that I felt like I'd lost him already. I could only image the pure self-pitying feeling he might be expieriencing. I didn't tell him about my relationships with Chris, with Ross. I didn't tell him about his documents going missing. I didn't tell him that I couldn't stop crying at night because I was losing my home to an aunt and uncle I can't stand. I didn't tell him that I hated his Will. What was the point ? There was nothing he could do about it then anyway, why let him die in anymore misery than he was already experiencing ? I kept a happy tone in my voice, and I said everyhting I could in the way and manner he loved me to do so. I didn't hold his hand. It was under his sheet at this point, I didn't want to make it cold. I couldn't even tell if he was awake or not... Although I could hear his breathing. Inhaling sharply, exhaling in agony. "I'll come and talk to you again tomorrow. Have a good day, and have a good sleep tonight. I love you, Dad." Kiss on the forehead. Out. Mutti and John are bustling around, it's almost 7pm and we're late for the resteraunt. All of a sudden, I felt dead. I felt like curling in to a ball and dying. I felt like screaming. I felt out of place in my own skin. I was in agony, yet I wasn't feeling any pain. A minute later I was running down the stairs, jumping in the car and screaming at my mother to hurry up, ready to take my shoes off and run if she took any longer. In the car my mind was in turmoil. Why had I felt like that? We arrived just as the hospice had hung up the phone from trying to reach us at my Dad's flat. No. My flat. My flat, with my phone, my carpets, my wall paper. As of that moment, that moment when my head practically split from an agony I felt, which ran deeper than my skin, deeper than even my mind, I'd inherited a property. I'd inherited pots, pans, beds, a computer, speakers, paper, pencils, sheets, a christmas tree, toilet roll, cusions, books, candles, old newspapers, lightbulbs, a microwave... That moment when my head practically split from an agony I felt, which ran deeper than my skin, deeper than even my mind, my father had let go his final breath. This is why I despise the song Cancer, by My Chemical Romance. This is why after loading the CD to my computer, I deleted track 8 from the playlist on Media Player. This is why I felt angry when I heard that song for the first, the last, the only time. It's wrong. Having recently lost my father to cancer, I thought this song might be a good song to listen to, however all it does is hurt. Hurt because of the loss, but also it hurts because it's wrong... The only line I can relate to would be 'my lips are chapped and faded'. My Dad wanted to die, leaving us wasn't hard. I wished he'd be put out of his misery, because I knew he hated it. He wanted to die because of the agony the cancer was putting him through, the humiliation, he died the only way he wished never to go. Laying in an unfamiliar bed, changed and washed by nurses, unable to communicate other than by squeezing my hand, his eyes permenantly open, unblinking, his mouth dry... His once chubby and well rounded figure was skinny, 10 stone lost within 3 months. If the cancer hadn't killed him, he'd have had a heart attack instead because of the strain his heart was put through. The image is heart breaking. And this song... It just doesn't do anything but hurt, and the hurt isn't the memories I have, it's not the song dragging up upset from my heart. It's the fact that the lyrics mean nothing in relation to how horrific Cancer really is. This song makes me angry to the bone. It makes me want to bash Gerard Way's head in, regardless of the fact that before hearing this song I didn't mind MyChemicalRomance. I wouldn't have counted myself a fan, but I certainly never bashed them, and I could listen to their music out of choice, getting a song from them in my head hadn't mattered, it was better than getting something by P-Diddy in there. If when I'm at Download this year, if I hear this song... Natalie; cover my ears and drag me away, or I might kill him. For being so insensitive and completely wrong about the whole experience. Once Cancer takes it's toll, everyone wishes for death, because it's the only realistic way out. If their wish could be granted for a full recovery, obviously they'd take that. However, that's not possible. However, the song Mama is rather catchy and... odd.