I Discovered I have One Week Left And I Kept It A Secret

I Discovered I have One Week Left To Live And Kept It A Secret

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Hey, what’s up everyone, I’m Tracy. I’m 15, an only child. I’m not sure where to start... here goes. My family has a medical history of some weird disease. My aunt and grandma died a short time after noticing a black spot on their legs. My entire family have been terrified of black spots after their passing, myself included.
I learned to respect the feelings of others from my parents. My mom and dad are like super polite and never say anything out of the way to people. For example, some random guy broke down on the street and opened up his entire life to my parents. They stood there and listened to his blatantly pathetic story, and then my dad turned around and handed him a hundred dollar bill. My parents “good-will to men” mentality has helped my family build bonds with others. My parents also taught me to put others before myself and the difference between needs and wants. I want the newest iphone, but don’t necessarily need it, whereas, I need water, but never want to drink it. Make sense?
The best part of school life, was hanging out with my friends. I remember being crazy in love with this one guy named, Jeff. I couldn't get the beautiful creature off my mind. A smile to die for. OMG. He was so hot. Jeff always seemed to be doing something for somebody else. I admired him for that. The only thing bad he had going for him was his snooty girlfriend Linda. I asked myself over and over, out of all the girls in the world, why her? I mean, yeah, she was pretty, sort of, but she was far from perfect. She was salty with everyone. I honestly felt like she was using Jeff for his car. Shiny black mustang, a true head turner. Linda wanted to be seen it. Nothing more or less. I wondered if Jeff really loved her for her, or maybe he was smitten by her superficial beauty. I never ended up telling Jeff about my feelings for him. There were times when he’d stroll by me in the corridor and I’d have to restrain myself from swiveling my head around to look at him. I was never very good at expressing my true feeling for anyone, especially Ms. Stevens, a large, stern looking woman of Greek ancestry.
Ms. Stevens was a good mother to her sons Sam and Luke, but she had a bad habit of not paying me for services rendered. I’d babysit for six hours and only get paid for five, sometimes even four measly hours. My parents taught me to respect my elders, and so, I never confronted Ms. Stevens about short changing me. On pay days, I’d bite my tongue and walk home royally pissed.
One evening, I’m Netflix and chilling when I notice a marble-sized black spot on my left leg. Yikes! I must have blacked out or something because for a few long seconds, I couldn’t think straight. I’m staring down at my leg and in the back of my mind are my aunt and grandma whose deaths are symbols of ugly black dots. I continued to stare at the black thingy on my leg and it appeared to be staring back at me with a mission, and then I began to wonder how it got there. No matter how hard I picked and poked at the thing, it wouldn’t budge, and now I’m scared to death.
The palms of my hands got all sweaty, I actually thought I was going to die. I switched on my laptop, heart pounding. I began to search google for any and everything related to black dots. As I skimmed over headlines, several words jumped out at me. LETHAL. DEATH. DISEASED. Unable to hold in my emotions any longer, I bursted out into tear. I cried the whole day believing in my heart that my life was going to end. I realized after a while that time is very important so I stopped crying and made a conscious decision to take care of a few things.
The very first thing I did was call my mom. I explained to mom that I was bored and that I was coming over to chill with the family. After arriving at my parents house, we jumped in my dad’s Honda and hit road. After arriving at the restaurant, I ordered my favorite, chili dog with fries. No sooner than I started to eat, the ugliest black dot began to plague my mind. I’m chewing and chewing, and then I start to regurgitate and I can taste vomit inside my mouth, nasty! I ended up having to excuse myself from the table. Last thing I wanted was to throw up all over my parents priceless steak dinner.

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