Pain, Part 1

I read the first part of Odd Becca's post, since we can't read the whole thing at school.
I saw my grandmother go through chemo, and her sickness turned her into a bitter, cynical, and critical shadow of the babysitting, wildflower-loving person she once was. She lost her hair and too much weight, and she was always complaining about the cold, even though she refused the heater that we offered her.
"The days are getting shorter," my mom would comment, and my grandmother would reply, "Yes, it's going to be dark and gloomy more often from now on." Either that, or she'd ignore her completely, shuffling back into her room with another sweater from the boxes that filled out house and our storage shed.
But Ally isn't some introverted old woman who used to smoke and drink too much and hated men since her divorce. She's a teenager, a high school girl. She should be here, at our school, with us, complaining about the history test and finishing up her homework over lunch. She shouldn't be stuck in a cold hospital, awaiting her chemotherapy and the good or bad news.
I can't visit her today, or tomorrow, but I'm planning on it. If I have a game in the same city, I'll stop by to see her before I play. Maybe Odd Becca and Seewah-chan can come, too.
For now, I'll give her a plushie wolf.