My blonde hair whipped around my face as I stood on top of the Eiffel Tower. My mother squeezed my hand. “Are you okay”. I nodded, trying to enjoy the view and not to think of the ugly nasal cannula coming out of my nose. Lung cancer had affected me in lots of ways, but I wouldn’t let it stop me from being happy. The cold air was slithering down my throat, and I gagged, my lungs suddenly burning. I shouldn’t be out here. I shouldn’t be doing this. My mother’s arms were warm around me, and as I turned my head, the world spun and fell into darkness.