If you had two weeks left to live, how would you spend them? Would you surround yourself with your family and friends, spending every remaining possible minute with them? Or travel the world, exploring all it had to offer you before you left it’s surface for good? Whatever you choose, I bet you’d take it for granted that you’d get your full two weeks before you popped off.
A girl in the year above at my school wasn’t so lucky. She suffered from cancer, and spent most of her time in the hospital. However, it seemed the treatment she was recieving was working, and for a while it looked like she would make a full recovery. But last Friday, the doctors told her she had two weeks left to live. She died the following Saturday. She didn’t even get a day of her two weeks.
In some ways, however, she can be considered lucky. At least she knew she was dying. Earlier this year, an old friend of mine died in a go-karting accident. Her scarf got caught in the rear engine, she and gradually it tightened round her neck until she couldn’t breathe. She died, 40 mins later, in hospital. This girl got up that morning thinking she probably had a good sixty or seventy years ahead of her to live. It turns out she had less than six hours.
But does it make it easier or harder knowing that death is waiting for you, that it will snatch you from life in two weeks? Does it give you strength, spotting death waiting for you just around the corner? Or does it make you shrink away, terrified of the future? Either way, both can be made into the worst possible event, when death sneaks up and strikes before it’s time, as it did with these two lovely girls.
RIP Georgia Cordery and Amy Coxall xxx
