Holden and Allie

Good Essays
My older brothers just left the hospital after spending all afternoon here watching me. I cannot really do much because I sleep for most of the day, and I only wake up to drink a bit of water now and then. It drains me just to lift my head off the pillow and speak to my visitors but I always enjoy their company. I am semiconscious for the majority of the time, so I can see who is around, but I cannot conjure the strength to talk. I do not really like to eat because I struggle with swallowing my food. The doctors are giving me this new type of treatment called intravenous therapy, where I have a needle plugged into me and there is a bag of liquid which provides my nutrients. It is rather expensive I heard compared to the normal treatment. This all might not seem to be so great for me, but the doctors are saying that I will be able to leave soon in a few days, so I am looking forward to that. In the meantime, they just want me to rest up and to be able to see more visitors because it helps with my mood. My older brothers have started to learn more about me during my stay here; they come to visit quite often, so I am not lonely. Before, they rarely paid attention to me or really let me in on their lives. I guess there are many reasons for that some being the age difference among the three of us; one of them is two years older, but he is always off doing his own thing with friends, so I do not get to play with him much, and the other one is much older. The older one used to talk with me a lot when I was younger, but after he came back from the war he spends a lot of days just lying on his bed looking up at the ceiling. I still really like him though because we think a like sometimes, and we both really like to write. He is more into ... ... middle of paper ... ...ay with this level of leukemia I will not last many more days, but I will fight to stay awake for as long as I can. I hope Holden and D.B. can come see me one more time because I love it when they read Emily Dickinson to me. I hope that when I am gone, Holden will remember me. I want him to know that I will always be with him and that there will be hope in all situations, as Dickinson once said, “Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul - and sings the tunes without the words - and never stops at all.” For D.B., my love for you is eternal and “Love is anterior to life, posterior to death, initial of creation, and the exponent of breath.” As this could be the last thing I write, Holden, I want you to keep my glove with all my poems because I know you will take good care of it, and I hope one day I will be old enough to ride my bike with you and Bobby.
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