Mortality complex
Feb. 13th, 2004 12:46 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
candylandI'm eighteen years old. Is that too young to be developing a mortality complex?
Okay, I think I should explain myself a little more clearly. There's been a lot of death around me lately, and it's starting to bother me. I'll start at the beginning.
The very first was actually a couple years ago, my sophomore year of high school. One of my sister's classmates (they were in seventh grade at this time) suddenly passed out...and just never woke up. I think it was an undiagnosed brain condition or something like that. But it was very sudden. Arwen (my sister's pseudonym for this journal's purposes) was heartbroken; she'd been very good friends with this girl who died.
Well, then at the end of that same year--sophomore year--a classmate of mine, Erik, was diagnosed with cancer. Big time. They had to amputate the lower half of one of his legs to try and combat the disease. It was bad. Very bad.
Well, time went on. Then, senior year, ANOTHER girl in my sister's class died. This girl committed suicide. Once again, my sister was pretty upset about it, as is to be expected. She'd known this girl as well.
A couple months later, I graduated from high school. At graduation, they told us to look around because this was the last time we would all be together as a class again. Of course, none of us really paid much attention to that. We were mostly thinking about the parties going on that night, or sleeping in the next day. All three hundred and ninety-two of us walked across the stage, got our diplomas, and then we scattered to the four winds. Most of us headed off to college. We were a good class, better than average.
Not long after I started college, I get a call from my mom telling me that the football coach at my high school had died very suddenly from a heart attack. This guy had been there for a long, long time, so it hit a lot of people really hard. Then I find out that a girl in the class below me lost her grandmother at about the same time. I didn't know the grandmother, but I knew this girl pretty well.
Time passes, as it tends to do. Then one night in December, the week before finals, I sign onto AOL IM to talk to my friend Cass. And she tells me that there's been an accident. Two girls from our high school class, named Jayna and Allie. We're not exactly sure what happened, since there's a lot of conflicting reports. Some said Allie (the driver) was drunk; some said she thought she could make the turn; some even blamed it on the icy roads (we live in Iowa, and it was December--roads are not fun to drive on). Maybe it was even a combination. But whatever happened, they ended up under the wheels of a semi. Jayna died almost instantly, and Allie barely survived. She did pull through in the end. I'd known Allie better than I knew Jayna, but I did know them both.
As if this wasn't bad enough, two days later, after a band concert, my parents told me that Erik had relapsed again, and this time he was actively dying. The cancer was killing him. Not an hour later, I got a call from another high school friend, Beth, who told me that he had been given a month left to live, if he was lucky. We talked for an hour, and after we hung up, I cried.
Finals week proved an excellent distraction. Starting on a Monday, three days of nothing but studying, reading, and writing papers. I didn't have time or energy to think about much else. And Wednesday night, I went home. When I got there, I watched a movie with my sister, and went to bed late, thinking that I would sleep in the next day.
The phone rang at 9:15 Thursday morning. It was my sis, calling from the high school. Erik had died the previous night, in his sleep. He'd lost his two and a half year battle with cancer. I was dressed and at the high school in five minutes flat (we live about three blocks away from the school). I spent about three hours sitting in the band room, comforting underclassmen. I didn't cry. I was too numb to cry at that point.
The funeral was the following Monday. I was lucky that I was done with school for the semester. I know a few people that had to work to get their finals schedules rearranged so they could be there. One friend flew back from school in Texas. Another came back from California. The funeral service was packed--students, teachers, family, and friends alike, all came to pay their respects to this amazing young man. It was like a class of '03 reunion, only under painful circumstances. I cried at the funeral, though not alone. It was a beautiful service. And we said goodbye for the last time.
The thing about time is that it never stops. I came back to school in January. Things went on. Then I found out from my mom that my assistant band director--an amazing woman--had surgery to remove a cancerous growth. I nearly had a heart attack. Coming right on the heels of Erik, this was not something I wanted to hear. Ever. She ended up being just fine, but it was still a huge scare.
Then another death. Once again, I heard about this from my mother. A local legend, Reggie Schive. He sponsered a jazz camp here in Iowa, and was inducted into the Iowa Jazz Hall of Fame a few years ago. He had numerous credits to his name, and is considered a local celebrity by anyone in the area who knew anything about jazz. He passed away from an illness. My mom works with his wife.
And yesterday, a friend of mine lost her mom. Cancer. I have grown to despise cancer. Poor Meg...she's eighteen, and is going home to bury her mother. Can you imagine that? And this brings up another friend of mine here on campus who lost her mother to cancer when she was twelve. This same friend's grandmother is in the hospital, on oxygen, and it's not looking good.
So I ask, am I too young to develop a mortality complex? Because it seems like everywhere I turn, someone I know is dying, or someone close to someone I know is dying. I'm sick of death. I'm sick of cancer. I'm just sick of it. I don't want anybody else around me to die.
I'm just tired of it all. I'm tired...*sigh* Well, thanks for listening.
Still kickin'
Candy-chan
Okay, I think I should explain myself a little more clearly. There's been a lot of death around me lately, and it's starting to bother me. I'll start at the beginning.
The very first was actually a couple years ago, my sophomore year of high school. One of my sister's classmates (they were in seventh grade at this time) suddenly passed out...and just never woke up. I think it was an undiagnosed brain condition or something like that. But it was very sudden. Arwen (my sister's pseudonym for this journal's purposes) was heartbroken; she'd been very good friends with this girl who died.
Well, then at the end of that same year--sophomore year--a classmate of mine, Erik, was diagnosed with cancer. Big time. They had to amputate the lower half of one of his legs to try and combat the disease. It was bad. Very bad.
Well, time went on. Then, senior year, ANOTHER girl in my sister's class died. This girl committed suicide. Once again, my sister was pretty upset about it, as is to be expected. She'd known this girl as well.
A couple months later, I graduated from high school. At graduation, they told us to look around because this was the last time we would all be together as a class again. Of course, none of us really paid much attention to that. We were mostly thinking about the parties going on that night, or sleeping in the next day. All three hundred and ninety-two of us walked across the stage, got our diplomas, and then we scattered to the four winds. Most of us headed off to college. We were a good class, better than average.
Not long after I started college, I get a call from my mom telling me that the football coach at my high school had died very suddenly from a heart attack. This guy had been there for a long, long time, so it hit a lot of people really hard. Then I find out that a girl in the class below me lost her grandmother at about the same time. I didn't know the grandmother, but I knew this girl pretty well.
Time passes, as it tends to do. Then one night in December, the week before finals, I sign onto AOL IM to talk to my friend Cass. And she tells me that there's been an accident. Two girls from our high school class, named Jayna and Allie. We're not exactly sure what happened, since there's a lot of conflicting reports. Some said Allie (the driver) was drunk; some said she thought she could make the turn; some even blamed it on the icy roads (we live in Iowa, and it was December--roads are not fun to drive on). Maybe it was even a combination. But whatever happened, they ended up under the wheels of a semi. Jayna died almost instantly, and Allie barely survived. She did pull through in the end. I'd known Allie better than I knew Jayna, but I did know them both.
As if this wasn't bad enough, two days later, after a band concert, my parents told me that Erik had relapsed again, and this time he was actively dying. The cancer was killing him. Not an hour later, I got a call from another high school friend, Beth, who told me that he had been given a month left to live, if he was lucky. We talked for an hour, and after we hung up, I cried.
Finals week proved an excellent distraction. Starting on a Monday, three days of nothing but studying, reading, and writing papers. I didn't have time or energy to think about much else. And Wednesday night, I went home. When I got there, I watched a movie with my sister, and went to bed late, thinking that I would sleep in the next day.
The phone rang at 9:15 Thursday morning. It was my sis, calling from the high school. Erik had died the previous night, in his sleep. He'd lost his two and a half year battle with cancer. I was dressed and at the high school in five minutes flat (we live about three blocks away from the school). I spent about three hours sitting in the band room, comforting underclassmen. I didn't cry. I was too numb to cry at that point.
The funeral was the following Monday. I was lucky that I was done with school for the semester. I know a few people that had to work to get their finals schedules rearranged so they could be there. One friend flew back from school in Texas. Another came back from California. The funeral service was packed--students, teachers, family, and friends alike, all came to pay their respects to this amazing young man. It was like a class of '03 reunion, only under painful circumstances. I cried at the funeral, though not alone. It was a beautiful service. And we said goodbye for the last time.
The thing about time is that it never stops. I came back to school in January. Things went on. Then I found out from my mom that my assistant band director--an amazing woman--had surgery to remove a cancerous growth. I nearly had a heart attack. Coming right on the heels of Erik, this was not something I wanted to hear. Ever. She ended up being just fine, but it was still a huge scare.
Then another death. Once again, I heard about this from my mother. A local legend, Reggie Schive. He sponsered a jazz camp here in Iowa, and was inducted into the Iowa Jazz Hall of Fame a few years ago. He had numerous credits to his name, and is considered a local celebrity by anyone in the area who knew anything about jazz. He passed away from an illness. My mom works with his wife.
And yesterday, a friend of mine lost her mom. Cancer. I have grown to despise cancer. Poor Meg...she's eighteen, and is going home to bury her mother. Can you imagine that? And this brings up another friend of mine here on campus who lost her mother to cancer when she was twelve. This same friend's grandmother is in the hospital, on oxygen, and it's not looking good.
So I ask, am I too young to develop a mortality complex? Because it seems like everywhere I turn, someone I know is dying, or someone close to someone I know is dying. I'm sick of death. I'm sick of cancer. I'm just sick of it. I don't want anybody else around me to die.
I'm just tired of it all. I'm tired...*sigh* Well, thanks for listening.
Still kickin'
Candy-chan