Getting out of the passenger seat was easy compared to this. I didn't think that following the wheelchair would be this hard. The white walls collapsing in on my mind as my sneakers squeek on the tiled floor.

My body moving on its own violation, not thinking, not feeling, maybe not even breathing. I know this hospital all to well, ask me any question about a floor or a wing and I'll be able to tell you anything. Last time, when it was my 10th birthday, and he was diagnosed with cancer was easier.

He's been cancer free for 5 years now, the cancer isn't back that's not why we're here. Aortic Anerurysm that's the diagnois, we've been watching it for years, but it's gotten too big. This time we could really lose him, I hope it's not to late.

Here already? A second ago we were just at the elevator and now he's getting on the gurney. Why didn't I know that it was that big, why couldn't I tell? When he had cancer he had a yellow tint to his skin, but now he just looks the same.

The waiting that's what I hate the most. I wish I had my book to read but I left it at home and stupid rules won't let me have my cd player. Sitting on this sofa that only looks soft, boring.

Pacing is how I have to pass the time, back and forth. Everything around me is different yet the same, mom's here this time but she's no comfort. The Arby's roast beef sandwich had no taste. Not hungry, not thirsty, not crying. I never cry, all I want is my papa.