The high-pitched sound of a horn beeping in the driveway caught my attention. I looked up and sprinted to the window. Peering through the window, I heard Michaela’s mother shout from downstairs, “Jeana! Your mother’s here! Quickly, I gathered my scattered belongings, shoved them into my bag, said my goodbyes, and slammed the door behind me. I scampered down the stairs rapidly, knowing my mother was in a hurry. When I finally reached the car, I was struggling to catch my breath. I opened the door and plopped down on the seat, tossing my bag in the back seat.
Immediately, the car began moving backward. I buckled my seatbelt and tried to get comfortable. After a few moments passed, my mother spoke up and asked, “What did you do today? “OH! I replied in excitement, “We went swimming, and played a couple of games. It was a lot of fun. How was your day? “Well, my mother responded with a pause, “Do you remember when your cousin Jenny went through chemotherapy for her Non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma seven years ago? I sat there with no answer, and suddenly began to recall way back when I was seven years old.
Memories came racing back into my mind. I remember going to the hospital to visit her, and my parents telling me she was very, very sick. They told me we had to be extremely careful not to bring germs into her room. Her once luscious, long, dark brown hair was gone. She looked exhausted, like she could give up at any moment, but she didn’t. Cords were hooked all over her body supplying medicine to make her better. She was dressed in a hospital gown, which was not the most flattering thing in the world, but somehow she still looked beautiful.
She was smiling through it all, showing everyone around her that she was strong enough to beat cancer. Although, we all knew deep, down inside, that this was the hardest experience she has ever gone through. It was not just going to go away over night like the common cold or flu. She had to fight for her life to overcome this disease, and she did, at least so I thought. “Yes, I answered, no longer with excitement knowing something was terribly wrong. “The doctors told us that the tumors stopped growing and were no longer malignant.
But, this time the cancer came back stronger, and progressing faster than before. The only option she has is to have a stem cell transplant, which will hopefully cure her. Because of this, she will have to stay in the hospital for a month while she undergoes extensive chemotherapy in order to prepare for the stem cell transplant. “Why does she have to get ready for the stem cell transplant? How come they can’t just do it now? I questioned. “They need to lower her immune system down to basically nothing before they do the transplant, so her body doesn’t fight the transplant off.
This is very dangerous because she can easily pick up other infections. But, all we can do is hope and pray for the best. I sat in the car in silence, taking all of this in. I looked out the window trying to avoid eye contact with my mother; I knew she was crying and I felt as if I would begin at any moment. I didn’t understand why bad things happen to such kind-hearted, loving people. This car ride changed my mood from upbeat and carefree to sad and confused. We didn’t know how this treatment would react with her body, and for all we knew it could lead to death.
This car ride could not be over fast enough. I just wanted to be in my bed, escaping from the world for a bit, while I sorted things out in my head. My cousin, Jenny, is by far one of the biggest role models in my life. She fought cancer off, not once, but twice. When I was seven years old, I didn’t exactly understand how cancer would change her life. I didn’t know it could come back again, even stronger than the first time. I thought once it was gone, it would always be gone. Cancer has brought my family closer together; we didn’t understand how much we needed each other until adversity struck.
We learned to take one day at a time and not rush things. Being positive through all this commotion made me into a stronger person. We learned to laugh through the hard times and never take a moment together for granted. Tears watered our frowns blooming forth smiles and drowned our sobs, bringing forth laughter. We were each others support group, always there when one of us was down. This experience has made me into the person I am today. I learned to appreciate little moments with loved ones, and never take a person for granted because you never know when reality will hit.
