Cancer,

I would start off with "dear," but there is nothing dear about the pain, suffering, and torment that you inflict upon your victims. You enter lives, tear them apart, and in some cases, bring them to an end. There is absolutely nothing dear about that.

I first learned about you in middle school. It was only a mere introduction though. The only context in which I had really known you was in between the lines of an outdated science textbook. You seemed like such a foreign idea to me, something that I would never come into contact with. You never really found your way into my life at the time, and I thought it would only happen to people that I didn't know. When it's simply a concept that you only have experience with through a textbook, you can't help but dismiss it and move on.

As I grew older, I came to know you a bit more. Grandpa was sick, but I was always assured that he was getting better. Being that I was still young at the time of the diagnosis, I just figured that he would be fine. My grandpa was my superhero, and he could conquer any challenge that came his way. But unfortunately, you tore his life apart. Once you became a part of him, I saw that his life slowly began to crumble.

I noticed that I became seeing him less and less, and eventually it came to a point where I simply wasn't able to see him. Over 1,100 miles separated us, and our financial situation wasn't the best, so that led to nothing but separation.

"People began to label me as "the girl with cancer" and I wasn't entirely sure how to deal with this label. It made me feel incomplete and uncomfortable because I didn't choose to have cancer and I certainly didn't want adults tearing up at every mention of my cancer." -- Meagan Murray, diagnosed with leukemia at age 8.

But he was my grandpa. He could do anything. He could build bridges, conquer storms, and save the world. My grandpa was the best, and I knew that he could definitely beat you. He had done so many great things throughout his life, and I knew that he was not going to just let you take away everything from him.

But that's exactly what you did. There was only so much that my superhero grandpa could do. With all the treatments, medications, and hours spent laying on a hospital bed, you took every part of his being away from him. You destroyed him, bringing him to a point where he had to be connected to a large oxygen tank in order to survive. You intruded his life, did your job, and eventually took him away from me.

I will never forget the day I found out things had become almost unbearable. It was a Thursday morning, three days before my birthday, and the home phone began to ring. It was my dad. I picked up the phone, and I remember hearing a rather somber tone in my dad's voice. I asked, "What's wrong, dad?" He told me that Grandpa's situation was getting worse, and that he wasn't going to be with us much longer. In that moment, I had finally realized that you were no longer foreign to me. You had come into my life, and now you were taking away one of the people that meant the most to me. I simply broke down after my dad had uttered those words, and my dad took the first flight out to Florida to see his father.

"By having so many of my family members battle cancer, we all learned how important it is to have a positive outlook on life, because cancer hits the person and everyone around them hard. Without the positive outlook, I don't think any of us would have been able to make it through. This inspired me to pursue nursing in oncology!" -- Mikayla VanAlphen

After that phone call, I remember putting together a letter written to my superhero. I had emailed it to my grandma, hoping that he would be able to hear it before it was too late. Two days later, one day before my birthday, I remember waking up and my mom standing over my bed, looking directly into my eyes. As soon as I woke up, I knew the next three words that were going to come out of her mouth.

"Grandpa's gone, Tyler." The inevitable truth that I did not want to accept. You had won the fight, and to say I was heartbroken would be an understatement. In that moment, I felt so helpless. You had taken such a powerful person out of my life. What did this mean for the rest of my life? Maybe you would come back and take away others from me. And it was this inherent thought that inflicted pain and fear within me for years following my grandpa's passing.

But I have come to terms with his passing. He was a fighter, and I knew that he wasn't going to let you take him away easily. And in his memory, I am beginning to raise funds for the American Cancer Society through Relay for Life, so that hopefully, one day, families won't have to deal with the aftermath of you any longer.

But in the end, I'm thankful that you came into my life. Because now I can go and use this experience to help others who have endured the same battle that my grandpa did. People say that it is during the lowest times of your life where you realize that you can turn all of this bad into something good. So in memory of my hero, I am fighting to help others battling the same thing they did: you.

"It's hard for me to say that cancer is beat when it knocks kids down every day. I'm beginning to realize that I am immensely lucky to have experienced cancer because it has shaped every view that I have on the world and every aspiration that I have to help others and challenge myself in all of the best ways." -- Meagan Murray

So I'm here to say that you haven't seen the last of me. You are not going to win. I can promise you that.

From,

Someone who is stronger than you