Dear Sandy,
I am writing to congratulate you once again on moving back to Canterlot to open your horseshoe business. I know that city doesn't hold many pleasant memories for you, and I want you to know that I think it is incredibly brave what you're doing. Times have obviously changed since the two of us grew up on that mountain, but I know that was of little solace to you when we last talked about this. Regardless, I hope you find that you can trust in the unicorns there, and maybe even make some new friends!
Things have been dull as pond water up here in Cloudsdale. Scootaloo keeps asking why we haven't visited Ponyville to visit her Auntie Sandy, even though it's not even been a week since you moved. The poor little filly gets so down every time I have to tell her no... I know she's far too young to be staying home alone, but without you to babysit her when I'm at work, I just don't have a choice. You can't imagine how envious I am of your working from home.
Still, she's been keeping me busy enough. Her school year just ended, so with all her free time she's been pestering me day in and day out for flying lessons. I really wish I had the time to take her out to the city's outskirts for a few hours and show her the ropes, but between working my mail route and my new gig as a waitress at the Cumulus Club, I've not had even a moment to myself. Maybe when I've saved up enough money I can take a few days off and get her started, or at least hire somepony to train her. I bet there are loads of teenage pegasi looking for part-time jobs this time of year.
I won't sugarcoat it, things have been lonely around here since you left. The flight to Canterlot is far too long for me to make during my few free hours. When you get the chance, please do write back. It'd be nice to have some company that isn't bouncing off the walls, even if it's just your words.
Good luck with your business,
Firefly
Dear Sandy,
Things keep getting hazier and hazier. As I write this, Scootaloo is in the corner in time out. The little scamp thought she could get airborne by breaking a shelf off of my bookcase and using it as a sort of board to ramp off of the couch. I haven't a clue where she gets these childish ideas, but I suppose she's at least taking after her mother's passion for flight.
I know you'd be the first pony to tell me I'm overreacting for grounding her, but I honestly just haven't had the energy to deal with Scootaloo's foalish antics as of late. Between working two dead end jobs and struggling to find any sleep in the rare hours I have to do so, I've been feeling more or less like a zombie each day, whereas most ponies like you can at least have a slumber to wake up from.
Please don't think I'm coming off as jealous, Sandy. I really am so happy for you, finally having your dream job and in upper Canterlot of all places! But it doesn't mean I'm not envious, if that makes any sense. I had my dream job, my fancy apartments, but I had to leave it all behind. Whereas the entire Equestrian sky used to be my home, now I find myself routinely confined in this pathetically small flat, crowded with my few possessions and my hyperactive daughter.
I suppose that life is just one big aerial acrobatic, with each of us going through the motions. There are the ups and the downs, the twists and the turns, but never for a moment do I doubt that we're part of the same routine, and that you'll be there to catch me as I fall, as I will be for you.
Sweet Celestia... This apartment is too full of dismay nowadays, Sandy. Even now, as I fill this letter with all my lamenting and resentment, Scootaloo is sniffling and sobbing in the corner behind me. The poor filly just wants to fly like her friends can. Maybe if I were a better mother I'd be able to teach her. But I'm just so tired, every day...
It doesn't help that my wings feel like they're about to fall off. I've had broken limbs and muscle cramps, but this is something out of a nightmare, Sandy. No matter how I shift or stretch, the pain stays there, as if it were ingrained in my very bones. I wish I could understand it, but you and I both know I was never the most brilliant of ponies. Oh well, maybe if they do fall off, I can file myself as handicapped and start on welfare like a parasite.
By the stars, would you listen to me? I do hope this depressive nonsense doesn't become a habit, Sandy. Maybe I need to see a doctor, if only to see if there's something he can do about the aching.
Looking forward,
Firefly
Dear Sandy,
Sandy, something is very, very wrong with me. I visited the doctor over the weekend, and he decided to take some blood samples to see if he could come up with anything. I've just received a letter in the mail from his office, and... Oh Celestia, there's just no easy way of putting it.
Sandy, I have cancer.
I'm still getting over the shock of it myself. This always seems like the type of thing that happens to somepony else, but... Well, I guess we're all somepony else to somepony else. The doctors tell me it's acute lymphoblastic leukemia, an aggressive, quickly spreading blood cancer. There are treatments, but every single one is so incredibly expensive that I couldn't possibly hope to afford it. If I still had my Wonderbolts health coverage, this would all be a breeze, but then again, if I had anything from those days, my life would be very different.
The doctor tells me there's a clinic nearby in Ponyville that offers better cancer treatment than anything in Cloudsdale. I wish this was something like the common cold, something I could just sleep off and go into work the next day... I know what's at stake here, Sandy. I'm going to take Scootaloo and fly down to Ponyville tomorrow. I've already drafted a resignation letter for the post office, and I'm sure the Cumulus will get the message when I don't show up for work next week.
This is going to leave me in debt for the rest of my life, Sandy. There's no way around it, and it's going to do terrible things to my daughter's future as well. The doctor even told me that if I make it to remission, there is a good chance that the cancer will come back, and I'll be stuck at square one again.
I don't even know what to do right now. Scootaloo is asleep, but I want nothing more than to wake her up and hug her and tell her how much her mommy loves her. I'm so sorry, Sandy. I'm so sorry for how I've been neglecting her lately. What good is a mother providing for her foal if she's never there when she's needed?
I'm a terrible pony, Sandy. This is something I brought upon myself, I just know it. Every morning I wake up, resenting this home, resenting my job, my friends, my innocent little Scootaloo... I love her so much Sandy, and it scares me that it took something like this to make me realize it.
I'm going to be staying in a cheap motel in Ponyville. By the time you get this letter, I'll hopefully have an address for you to mail it to. But if not, send your response to the hospital in Ponyville. Something tells me I'm going to be spending a lot of time there in the near future...
Fearful but hopeful,
Firefly
Dear Sandy,
Thank you for your kind words. Even after all these years, you always know exactly what to say.
You're right that this isn't the end of the world for me. I know that survival rates for my cancer are pretty high, so with luck, I'll be in the three quarters that get to wear the fancy ribbon. We just moved into the motel today, so I haven't been able to get a proper diagnosis from an oncologist here in Ponyville, but that's definitely the first thing on my list tomorrow. Today, I had more important things to tend to.
I'm not sure Scootaloo understands how serious my illness is. On a bit of a guilty haze, I bought her a slice of watermelon—her favorite food, as I'm sure your carpet remembers—and took her out for a walk in the park to talk to her about the future.
I did my best to explain that I was sick and what I was sick with, though I don't think she quite gets what it is. I can't hold it against her too much; even I don't have a real clue as to how this happened to me. Regardless, she's confident that I'll pull through. Sometimes I wonder if Scootaloo thinks I'm more superhero than mortal mare.
Still no word from the Wonderbolts on whether or not my coverage from my time as a member is still any good for this. I have to believe it will be, Sandy. I haven't been raking in the bits since Scootaloo was born, but even with my old salary I'd be left wide-eyed at the costs of some of these treatments. Who knew ponies were so eager to charge out the flank for a shot that makes your mane fall out? Who knew ponies were so eager to buy it?
In just a few days, my whole life has been completely overtaken by this. It's all I can think about, Sandy. It keeps me up at night, staring out the window and wondering how many breaths I have left in me. My wings still feel useless, but I want to fly, now more than ever. Everything is upside down. Maybe the oncologist will be able to give me a little more clarity tomorrow.
Absolutely exhausted,
Firefly
Dear Sandy,
Things are even worse than I imagined. According to the doctors here in Ponyville, I've had cancer for easily a few months now. All this time, it's been spreading like a deadly weed. One doctor told me that if I hadn't come to the hospital when I did, I'd have been dead within the month.
This has become very real, Sandy. I'd be lying if I told you I wasn't afraid before, but I am now more than ever. The past few days have passed in a blur, as if I were floating in some surreal dream world where the universe and karma take turns playing cruel jokes on me. Now that I'm here, in the hospital bed before my first of many surgeries, the reality of the situation has finally set in.
I could die, Sandy. That thought terrifies me, it splits me to my very core and exposes the fragile mare who was either too stupid or too brash to feel any fear beneath the tight grip of her blue and yellow suit. In all my years of daredevilry and wild tours, I never once was afraid of dying. It never seemed possible, like that suit and those goggles made me invincible to even the most horrific crashes. And I've had more than my fair share of crashes, Sandy.
But this is something different. Something slow, some sort of awful dichotomy where my body is going to war with itself and no matter which side wins, I lose. If I survive—which according to the doctors is a big if—then I am left with a mountain of medical bills that will destroy both mine and my daughter's future. And if I don't...
I can't even think straight. My hooves are shaking, despite the medicine they gave me to calm me before anesthesia. This room is so cold, and despite all the doctors and nurses passing by the door and my precious, precious Scootaloo sound asleep on my shoulder, I have never felt so desperately alone.
Please, if there is any way you can make it to Ponyville, I need to see you. I need to see your face before I find out it's too late. I need to feel your embrace, I need to know that I'm not alone. Words are not enough anymore, Sandy. I am sick, and I need to hold on in any way I can.
Waiting for you,
Firefly
Dear Sandy,
Please don't feel guilty about not having the money for a train ticket yet. I understand completely if you don't have the funds, what with the start-up costs for your horseshoe business. Purchasing all those metals and furnaces can't be cheap, I'm sure. Regardless, I will continue to hold onto the hope that I may yet see you one day soon.
It's so cold in this hospital, Sandy. It wouldn't be such a big deal to me if I weren't required to stay here day in and day out. I think the drab concrete walls and pale overhead lights are starting to get to Scootaloo as well. The nurses tell me that when I'm asleep, every minute she's not by my side she spends staring longingly out the tiny window in the back of the room. I can't even imagine how confused she must be right now.
The first surgery went off without a hitch, if that's any good news. It wasn't part of my treatment, but instead just placing some port beneath my skin so they can start me on chemotherapy faster. It's still a bit uncomfortable, but I know I'll get used to the feeling. What I won't get used to is the sight of it.
Sweet Celestia, Sandy, you've never seen such a horrid looking thing. Just at the top of my chest, this hideous black and blue ring surrounds a thick bundle of plastic tubes. I've taken to wearing one of the hospital gowns as a sort of cloak on the rare occasions I'm allowed to leave my bed, if only to keep from feeling like some sort of pony-squid beast.
I know it sounds silly, but trust me. This thing isn't doing any wonders for my self esteem.
There's a thought about all that I'm sure hasn't even crossed your mind yet, something I felt inclined to ask the doctor about today. Why couldn't he, or some more powerful unicorn physician, use magical treatments to cure me? After all, when properly applied, the benefits of most magical practices can be virtually limitless. Or at least, so I thought.
The answer was less than encouraging, Sandy. As it turns out, magical treatments are something used sparingly in the field of oncology, and throughout most medical treatments in general. At first, I was confused; I'd had plenty of wounds sewn up and bones partially mended by medical staff when I was a stunt flier. The difference, he tells me, is that what I thought was magic mending my body was actually magic speeding up my body's natural healing process.
When ponies are taken to the emergency room with broken bones or serious cuts and bruises, it doesn't take more than an hour or so for them to walk or fly right out the door they came in, feeling good as new. The magic employed in these places is a sort of mana catalyst, something that kicks ponies' bodies into overdrive and cleans up the mess. This solution is all well and good, until ponies start to use magic to actually, physically heal the body.
We are, all of us, bound to magic. As much as I'm sure you're pained to admit it, we ponies are as magical as the dragons themselves. Furthermore, each pony has a unique magic to themselves. These mana conduits, as the doctor calls them, run through our bodies like invisible blood vessels, holding our spirits to our bodies. And when another pony's mana conduits cross our own, via something like using magic to stitch a broken bone... Well, the consequences are as terrifying as you'll likely believe.
According to the list of side effects the doctor gave me, direct magical treatments can result in anything from small infections to ingrown body parts to tumors. And if they were to use the more traditional indirect magical treatment, it would speed up my body's natural processes... which in this unfortunate case, means the leukemia would grow out of control and kill me within minutes.
There is no easy way out of this, Sandy. And the only optimistic lead I had was shut down pretty heavily. I think I'm starting to understand why you're so distrusting of magic.
Holding on,
Firefly
Goddess, Sandy, I can't think straight.
I keep throwing up. My head is spinning circles like I'd just finished flying two dozen loops around my room. And I'm almost certain my mane is falling out.
The nurses took Scootaloo, Sandy. My baby girl isn't here. She was crying too much, so they took her away, and now I'm crying too.
I don't want to die, Sandy. Goddess, my beautiful daughter, I'm so sorry. I never wanted any of this to happen...
Dear Sandy,
If nothing else, it's even colder in here.
After a few rounds of chemotherapy, my head and tail are shorn bald like a sheep. Only, unlike wool, my hairs were graying, thin and dull when they fell out. Even my coat is fading away, as if I were a jacket left out in the sun too long. What was once pink is now closer to white.
Celestia, I feel so naked.
Scootaloo offered to shave her own mane and give it to me. Bless the little filly, her sweetness is exactly what her mother needs right now. But in all seriousness, there's a charity group that visited me earlier this morning, run by a delightful young mare who runs a clothing shop in this town. She promised me something to cover myself, and when I asked if she meant a hat or some such garment, she laughed and told me I'm to receive a custom made blue wig and tail extensions.
There are some truly wonderful ponies on this earth, Sandy. Between you and the ponies here, I know I am truly lucky to have met so many.
I must apologize for the... urgency, I suppose... in my last letter. I wrote it on a whim, between vomitous episodes, and slid it under the door to be sent without a second thought. In the days since my chemotherapy treatment has started, things have settled down a bit. I can't stomach most of the food here—like anypony could anyhow—so I've been sticking to what they're telling me are "dietary supplements." Heh... When I was in the Wonderbolts, I used to eat my weight in hay fries and ice cream before and after every performance, and still have room for more. Now I'm living off of pills and saline.
Speaking of the Wonderbolts, I received a notice from them this morning. It was about as encouraging as you'd expect; they denied my application to use my previous insurance coverage, despite the circumstances. I wish I could pinpoint the date when the pride and joy of Equestrian pegasi turned into a malicious corporate giant, Sandy. Probably the same day they dropped me for fear of hurting their image.
Even after all these years, and after all the lectures you gave me about letting go, I just can't seem to get over it all. I love Scootaloo with all my heart and soul, and it absolutely disgusts me to think that an organization as prestigious as the Wonderbolts would ever think she would cause them trouble.
It's all just a stupid nightmare to me now, something that keeps me up at night, asking, "What if?"
What if I hadn't made the same choices I did? What if I hadn't had one to many ciders and gotten involved with that monster of a pony? I'm sure I would still be soaring city to city, lightning and thunder as my trail, with all the ponies of Equestria screaming my name in unison.
I also wouldn't have my darling Scootaloo, who as I write this is twitching her wings in her sleep at the foot of my bed. I can't help but smile every time I see her, Sandy. She's such a wonderful bundle of joy to me, and I only wish I could give her the life she so rightfully deserves... But with the financial disaster that is certain to follow my treatment, I just don't know what to do.
Part of me likes to believe that there's a sort of karmic balance, where I should have less long term problems now that I have such a serious short term one. But I know better, Sandy. I just flat out have too many problems. First and foremost of which is being bald, which I just can't stand for much longer. I do hope that unicorn finishes my hairpiece soon. Her simple generous act would mean more to me than anypony could imagine.
Praying for hair,
Firefly
Dear Sandy,
It's been two weeks to the day that I was first diagnosed with leukemia, and things aren't improving at all.
I'm beginning to lose feeling in my wings. I tried to stretch them when I was going for a walk around the hall this morning, but found them mostly pained and unresponsive. It's such an alien feeling, not being in control of my own body. I don't know why, it's something I ought to be used to by now.
My oncologist told me last night that the chemotherapy is making very little progress. Given how long the cancer had been growing before I started treatment, it's nearly out of control. I won't lie to you Sandy, I laid into him a little bit when he told me. It's his one and only job to keep ponies like me alive, and at the time I didn't buy any of his reasons as to why he was having so much trouble with it. I guess I've mellowed out by now, but that just leaves me with a whole new set things to worry about.
As I said, the treatment isn't working. I'm getting more and more sick with each passing day, and soon it's going to be too late for me or anypony to do anything about it. In fact, that day may have very well already passed.
I need you to come to Ponyville, Sandy. It's extremely important that I see you again, soon. Enclosed is the ticket for a train that leaves two days from when I'm writing this letter. I paid for it using the money that I was saving to put towards my medical bills, but something tells me this is more important.
Scootaloo has remained so upbeat and warmhearted through all of this. I can't tell if she really believes I'll beat this, or if she's just putting on a brave face for me. Either way, she's only seemed more and more down since she woke up this morning. I think I need to have a talk with her as well... I'm afraid she may have heard some things I'm not too keen on her knowing.
Please Sandy, as soon as you get this letter, come to Ponyville as quickly as you can. The future is coming fast, whether I like it or not, and the only viable option is for me to be even faster.
Please hurry,
Firefly
Dear Scootaloo,
If you are reading this letter, then it means I've already passed on. It pains me to think that of all the battles I've fought in my life, the only one I truly lost was the one that mattered most.
Scootaloo, my beautiful daughter... I'm going to miss you so much. Of all the things I've done in my life, out of all the races and heroics, nothing has ever made me prouder than you have.
I just finished talking with your Auntie Sandy, Scootaloo. We've arranged something that I hope will work out for everypony. She's going to take care of you now that I'm gone. Whether or not you're going to move to Canterlot with her or stay here with Sandy moving back to Ponyville, I don't know for certain. All I know is that we're both incredibly blessed to have a pony like Sandy Hooves in our lives.
I love you so much, Scootaloo. Nothing will haunt me more than knowing that for the last few months of my life, I spent more time working to provide for you than I spent being a mother to you. This is a sin I can never absolve myself of, but one I hope you can learn from. One day, when you're a grown mare, remember what matters most to you. For all the money and fame and prestige in Equestria, nothing is more important than being their for your loved ones. This is a lesson that took my own death for me to learn, but one I gratefully accept and pass on to you.
There are so many things I'm going to miss, Scootaloo. I won't be there to see you take flight. I won't be there to see you earn your cutie mark. I won't be there to see my darling daughter chase down her dreams.
Things are going to be difficult, Scootaloo, and I don't blame you if you don't resent me even a little. Goddess knows I have my fair share of faults to stick a needle in. But for all the poor choices I've made in my life, there's at least some comfort in knowing that my daughter will grow up to be twice the mare I was, as she's always been, even when she was just a filly.
Don't ever let ponies take advantage of you, Scootaloo. And even if they do get the best of you, turn it right back around and make the best of it. The most wonderful blessings are often born in the shrouds of the worst curses, and I have complete confidence that you're going to grow up to be the best pony you can be.
I'm so sorry, Scootaloo. I wish I could write more, but I'm just so tired. In all the days and nights to come, when you're wondering why your mommy had to leave you so early in life, take comfort that she's proud of you.
I love you, Scootaloo. I pray to Celestia that your beautiful face is the last thing I see.
With all your mother's love,
Firefly
