Lost Journals

Aislin woke in the night with a rattling chest. At first she thought it was a truck outside, but phlegm broke loose sending her into another painful coughing fit. If she were to cough any harder she thought her diaphram would rip from her chest.

Aislin felt around for the inhaler she taken before drifting off to sleep. Two puffs and all was calm again.

She couldn't help but to think of those nights she'd lain awake with a hand on Sean's chest, praying it wasn't pneumonia this time. She recalled his frail body curved into hers, fighting to breathe, fighting to live.

Aislin refused to cry. Crying brought on more phlegm and more coughing. She missed Sean, but she now understood the pain he'd endured with a smile so many years ago. It was her time to smile and ignore the pain, her time to win the battle. Unlike Sean, she knew she would win. Chemo had damaged her immune system, but it was nothing to the ravages AIDS did to Sean.

Tonight Aislin prayed for her lost love and prayed - this time for herself - that it wasn't pneumonia.