Dying Light is a play about people dealing with their own mortality. Jenny is a bright star in the night that is death
Glioblastoma. That's what they say I have... Glioblastoma. Sounds like some kind of science fiction laser. My Glioblastoma is set for kill. Just give the word Captain and I will vaporize the alien beast. 'Course it's not from Star Trek or Star Wars or Star Blazers. It's from real life. But like one of those types of movies it seems like some kind of alien. It snuck inside my head and began eating my brain. It's no secret that it's set for kill either. A Glioblastoma is probably the worst type of tumor you can get. Nope, I wasn't lucky enough to only get one little tumor. Instead I had a cluster of the damn things. Every time I had an MRI - that's like a
CAT scan but better - they managed to find a new one. So three operations and a ride on the radiation rollarcoaster later, I'm still here. It's strange the way people treat you when you're dying. My Mom try's to pretend nothings wrong... Maybe that's for the best. Recently a doctor told me I should consider putting my estate in order. Estate in order!
What's that? Some clothing, make-up, and a beat up bicycle. I'm not going to be leaving a whole lot behind to prove I was here. Cancer!
Brain surgeries! You wouldn't believe how hard it was in high school to deal with all that crap. You wouldn't believe how hard it was for a girl with no hair to find a date to the prom. Nobody asked me. Nope... Nobody wanted to take the bald chick out. No big deal. Ended up having to hire someone to go with me... Just kidding. Actually I ended up asking Henry
Schlatman. The guy had glasses that were about a foot thick and he still couldn't see. On the night of the prom he complimented me on my hair. I didn't have the heart to tell him I didn't have any. Well at least for the time being I have