My hair is becoming really thin. I don't know if it's because of the radiation or if maybe I'm just a freak, but I'm going to guess it's the radiation. So I bought some new shampoo, that's suppose to had volume and body. It's a girls shampoo, but I have Luekemia. I'm allowed to use girl shampoos.

I'm a little wrapped up in worrying about my thinning hair to notice that Turk was talking to me. He hits me on my shoulder, which makes me flinch a lot. It wasn't that hard of a hit, but it hurt. "What?" I half scream, mostly out of surprise.

"I asked if you wanted to go out for drinks after work," he repeats, giving me a confused look. "You feeling okay there?"

"I'm fine, and I don't know." I'm hesitant to drink while undergoing radiation, since it's against the rules. I'm hesitant to drink while I have cancer, actually. I'm pretty sure a hangover mixed with Luekemia wouldn't work out too well. I'd be pretty damn sick. "I have a lot of stuff to do when I get home. I have to..." shit, shit, shit, what do I have to do? Laundry? Fuck yeah, laundry! "...do laundry. Lot's of it. So much laundry Turk," I explain, and in a quieter voice repeat "so much laundry."

"Come on man! We haven't hung out outside of work in forever!" he's giving me a hurt puppy dog look, and it's killing me. I'm almost tempted to tell him right then and there, but I swallow that urge. He can't know. It would devastate him.

"I'm sorry," I say, and almost feel like crying. How many times have I blown off my best friend now? It wasn't fair to him at all. "Maybe tomorrow."

"Alright, promise?"

"Promise," I give him a weak smile and he scampers off to go remove someone's gallbladder.

I wish I could tell him.

(xxx)

I lived up to my promise,and right now Turk and I are watching The War- I got to pick the movies. Of course, when the dad dies I will cry, as I will forever do. This time maybe I'll cry harder, because that could be me. I could be dead. Radiation might not work. I mean, I think there's only a fifty percent survival rate for people of my age anyway. Who's to say I won't die?

What would happen if I did die? Who would get my stuff? I guess Turk. And Dan. They could split it. Should I write out a will?

Fifty percent. So there's a half chance of me living. And a half chance of me dying.

Holy fuck, I'm scared.