Elevators remind me of doctor’s offices, hospitals make me feel dizzy, and the thought that every minute in the U.S., three new cases of cancer will emerge and one death will occur make me feel sick to my stomach. Unfortunately, this poisonous monster called “cancer” has become a household term and I have yet to meet someone whose life has not at all been affected by this disease. When cancer made its way to my family, I quickly realized how it not only absorbs the life out of the person with the illness but everyone around them as well. I’m not sure how unique my story is with the millions of cancer stories that are out there, but I am sure that the profound awareness this disease gave me about life is absolutely unique to me.
As a 13-year-old, Bloomingdales with my mom on a Sunday seemed like a perfect day, yet when she pulled me into a corner near a sales rack and whispered, “I have cancer,” the day went quickly downhill. Following this news, cancer consumed my every thought, action, and perception I had on life. As I watched my beautiful, young mother’s hair fall out, skin color dull, and her quirky attitude disappear, I became fascinated and frustrated by how some micro bacteria inside her could so easily change all the things that made her, her. Each day as I went to school, knowing she was receiving chemotherapy, radiation and having over eight surgeries including a double mastectomy, and a hysterectomy, over the course of her illness, I learned the real meaning of compassion and loneliness. The dictionary characterizes loneliness as causing a depressing feeling of being alone or destitute of sympathetic or friendly companionship, but the truth of the matter is that loneliness can occur in even the most crowded of places with people that you deeply care about.
I neglected my friendships, overlooked the many hands and voices that reached out to my family and found a way to isolate myself at school, home, and just about everywhere I went. I didn't know up until then that it was possible to feel silence in a room of screaming peers or feel lonely in a crowded room. In these moments of complete loneliness, I felt all the emotions that cancer forces us to feel. I was angry, sad, and confused yet I wasn’t even mad at “cancer,” I was mad at myself. I wasn’t the one who was sick, I didn't have to endure any painful surgeries, and I surely wasn't the one whose precious life was being physically twisted and torn apart by this illness. I hated myself because I wasn’t strong enough for her. I didn't have the courage to stand by her bedside in the hospital when even my eleven year old brother did. In all these moments of anger and isolation, I was able to find happiness by appreciating the small things; although it may be easier said than done, it is what enabled me to let go of the anger I had for not being courageous and stop moping around feeling sorry for myself that I was helpless, because I wasn't helpless.
Maybe I couldn't cure cancer, or even make my mom better, but she never asked for that. The small moments I spent with my dad and little brother in hospital waiting rooms fearing the unknown and waiting for a doctor to emerge saying the surgery went well, but expecting them to say it didn’t, made clear that the true demon of cancer isn’t in its biological nature but rather how it often makes us feel helpless and even hopeless.
After four years of battling cancer, my mom came out stronger than she ever had been before because she had defeated cancer. Looking years back on this experience, my most important advice is definitely to look for the small things that matter, and when you find them, appreciate them. Hold on to the sound of your mom laughing or the look of the smile on your brother’s face and the touch of your dad holding your hand when you’re feeling your most alone because these are the moments that will enable you to defeat your personal, emotional battle against cancer and it matters.
Without holding onto these moments and looking for the few, meager signs each day that everything would be alright, I wouldn't have the determination to become a doctor or even be tough enough to smile with my mom in the mirror when she put on her wig for the first time. I’m still not sure if I was smiling to be strong for her or if she was smiling to be strong for me, but I am thankful that we did smile. Don’t give up on yourself and don’t be angry with yourself because although this disease has a colossal and sometimes tragic impact on whomever it affects, it will help shine a light on the true essence of compassion, loneliness, and make you stronger by nature. Don’t let cancer break you, define you, or captivate you; you decide how cancer will change you.
