Being a teenager has never been easy for anyone. But that’s especially the case me.
I’m Kathy. Not a bad name, right? I mean, sure, it’s short for Katherine. Half the girls in my school are some kind of Kate or Katie or Kat. But there aren’t too many Kathys.
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I’m fifteen. As you might imagine, every adult on the planet has once been fifteen, too. Not a bad age, I’m told.
But here’s the kicker—and I wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy—last year, I was diagnosed with cancer.
Yup. I’m fifteen, I have my whole life ahead of me, and I’ve just finished my latest round of chemo. How fun is that? If you guessed “not very”, you get a prize!
One of my teachers, Mrs. Brown, told me about the freshmen Valentine’s Day dance. I felt like there was no use even thinking about going. Who would want to go with a bald girl?
Oh, yeah, did I forget to mention that? Mhmm, chemo took my hair. What boy is going to look past that?
So after that last round of therapy, when I got home from the hospital, all I wanted to do was go to my room and cry. I hated being the victim of cancer, and I hated even more all the things I was losing out on because of it.
I can no longer do many of the things that I loved. I can’t play sports or do other activities that required physical strength and stamina. One of my favorite activities used to be dancing. So when Mrs. Brown told me about the dance, it nearly broke my heart.
Instead of bothering to get my hopes up about the dance, I just laid in bed reading a book, while the rest of the world went on without my.
Two days before the Valentine’s Day dance, Donald, the kicker on the football team, stopped by to visit me. We had been friends for about three years, and dated off and on. It turned out Donald had wanted to ask me to the dance, but was nervous because he didn’t know how I’d respond. I mean, I probably would have laughed in his face and assumed he was being cruel.
Except that, when he got to my house, I overheard my mom telling him how depressed I’d been lately. He actually sounded like he cared. Really cared.
Donald asked me to the dance, and it was sweet of him. It felt great that anyone wanted to take me… But I still didn’t want to go.
When he asked why not, I told him that no one wanted to see a sick bald girl at the dance with him.
Then Donald did something I couldn’t believe: he begged and pleaded with me, trying to talk me into going.
I wish I could say that worked. But just because he wanted me there didn’t mean it was enough. We had been friends for three years, so I know Donald could still remember the way I was back then… But I couldn’t. I could only see the physical affects, the toll the cancer had taken on me.
The day of the dance, my mom ordered me to go purchase a dress. I argued all the way to the store. But my mother helped me to pick out a beautiful red gown with black lace trim. We even found these gorgeous black and red shoes to match.
I was still nervous with the idea of going to the dance that night. But my mom said that, if I stayed home, I would have felt badly. I know I would have felt like crap for having my mom spend all that money on the dress and shoes.
So, feeling guilty, I decided to go ahead and go with Donald the dance. My mom knew he had held out hope that I would change my mind. What a goofball. A sweetie, but a goofball.
When Donald arrived at my house that evening, he was carrying a box of chocolates and a single white rose. He wore a dark blue suit with a burgundy button up shirt and burgundy men’s dress shoes. He also wore dark blue hat that matched quite nicely.
My mom invited him into the house. He was taking his hat off when I gasped.
“Donald…” I walked to him and reached my hand up to his head. “What did you do?”
Donald was bald. His head was smooth and soft.
“You said no one wanted to see a bald girl dancing with me. So… now we match. No one can say anything.”
I giggled, partly from the madness of it all and partly from shock.
Donald continued. “And, well, a bunch of the guys on the team heard what I was doing.”
“No…”
“And they all shaved, too. No one wants you to feel alone, Kathy.”
Tear ran in rivers down my cheeks. I couldn’t believe that anyone would actually do something like that for me, let alone half the guys on the team! I mean, who did that? Just shaved their heads to make someone else feel better? I had no idea that so many people cared.
When Donald and I arrived at the dance, I was in for an even bigger surprise. It was not only the football team that shaved their heads that day, but also a lot of the girls on my old dance team. My dance instructor told me that I could not be the only one to make such a great fashion statement. I fell into another fit of shocked giggles.
I was completely amazed! For the first time long time, I actually felt like she belonged.
All through the dance, nearly every boy in the school asked me to dance with them. For that one night, I was completely able to forget about the cancer. I laughed and had fun, which is something I thought I would never do again.
When the dance was over, Donald took me out for a late-night movie and dinner. He had previously arranged everything with my parents, sneaky thing!
It turned out that Donald had special plans for that evening, and U was part of those plans. While we were sitting down at dinner, Donald kept grabbing at something in his pocket. He kept looking ill. I mean, wasn’t I supposed to be the sickie?
Donald excused himself and went to the restroom.
I thought about checking in on him, wondering if the food was upsetting his stomach or if all the dancing had dehydrated him. I was getting up when he pushed open the bathroom door, slowly walked back up to the table, and stood in front of me.
I stood staring up at him. “I was worried you were sick,” I said.
Then Donald got down on one knee.
Before Donald could even say anything, my eyes filled with tears.
“Kathy,” he said, “we’ve known each other for over three years now. I have loved every minute we have spent together. I know we are still in high school, but as soon as we graduate… I want to marry you.”
I choked back my tears. What he was doing was incredible. But I couldn’t do that to him.
I asked, “How do you know that’s what you want? I may not even be here when you graduate. I haven’t been able to beat this cancer yet. I don’t want you wasting your life for me.”
He placed the ring box on the table then took my hands.
“Spending my life with you is not a waste. I love you,” Donald said, “and I always will love you. This is my promise ring to you. Once graduation is over, I will exchange it for an engagement ring. All you have to do is say yes.”
I smiled, though it was a sad smile. I loved Donald a lot, too. I just hoped I wasn’t being selfish.
“Yes,” I said. “Just promise me this: if I don’t make it, you will make sure to find someone else to love as much as you claim you love me right now. Deal?”
Donald hesitated. He stood up and kissed me.
He said, “If that’s what you want, then deal. But you’re going to make it.”
We went back to my house after that. The two of us spent the rest of the evening watching romantic comedies and cuddling on the sofa in the living room. We laughed and joked, and dreamed about the future that lied ahead of us.
We talked about a new experimental treatment that my doctor wanted me to try. I told Donald about my fear of the side effects. And Donald gave me a few ideas about how I could stop being nervous about treatments. He even offered to go with me when I covered my visits.
He really wanted me to feel like I had somebody there for me at all times. He knew he would have to still go to school, but he figured he could go visit with me after class each day. I laughed when he promised to bring a flower or a little gift every time he saw me. I told him I didn’t need anything; I just needed him to keep being there for me, like he was right then.