Anonymous

Cancer. The big C, one of the scariest things you can hear from a doctor’s mouth. While I have not heard those words said to me, it is a word that has plagued my family for decades.

First Grade.
My best friend, my grandpa, my dad’s father, a prominent member in my life, was diagnosed. At that age, I didn’t know what cancer was. All I knew was that my grandpa was sick and would be staying with us. I remember watching him shave his head in our basement and freaking out that something was wrong. More recently, I learned that he shaved his head to keep his wig on. I remember our time spent together becoming less and less as he started to suffer the effects of bladder cancer.

In one instance, he fell down the escalator at the mall, breaking both of his shoulders. He was around less and less, staying in the hospital longer each time, until the day I found out he was gone. I was called down into the living room with my sister and brother where I saw my dad and uncle crying. I never saw them cry. They were both “strong men.” My mom was holding my dad’s hand and I was confused. My dad told us that he had passed and I instantly felt the tears run down my face. I was so sad and angry because I had asked so many times to visit him in the hospital and I wasn’t allowed to. I found out years later it was because the cancer had taken every part of him and my parents didn’t want my last memories of him to be this way. I am grateful for that now, but not for cancer taking my best friend away.

Middle School.
My dad had recently had a surgery to help him lose weight. He was doing great until he wasn’t. He was sick all the time. Constantly throwing up, looking so pale and ill. We found out that the surgery he had wasn’t working for him and it would have to be reversed. I was happy to know he’d be himself again. Not long after, he wasn’t himself again. After doing some scans, we learned it was prostate cancer - something that happened as a result from the reversal of the previous surgery. They were lucky they caught it early as it had not spread yet. Seeing him in the hospital so pale, so weak, so fragile. I’d never seen him so vulnerable. I was terrified he’d die, and I’d convinced myself he was because of how cancer took my grandpa, his dad. I’m thankful that his story didn’t end there, but the sickness that followed for a couple of years after was still horrible to watch.

Freshman Year- High School.
My grandpa on my mom’s side had been sick on and off for a long time. I was told he had cancer many years ago, but beat it. I visited him when he had open heart surgery and always starred at his long scar down his chest. This time however, was different. The doctors denied him entry into the hospital no matter how hard my family pushed, knowing he was sick. By the time they finally listened, it was too late. The cancer took hold.
Esophagus cancer. It was too late. We visited him in Arizona often, making sure we had lots of memories with him.

I’ll never forget the day that I learned he was getting really bad, being told he might be gone soon. I went to school that day sulking, thinking of only him as my mom was by his side helping comfort him. I got a call from my sister on my phone and she said to pack up my things because my grandpa was being transferred to hospice, the end was near. I burst into tears and was in bad shape. My friends helped me get my things from my locker before returning home. We took the next flight to Arizona to see him, to say goodbye. We arrived and saw him in his bed at hospice, frozen in time. He was unable to move, speak, blink. It was a horrible sight to see, but I knew he heard us. We all had some time to speak to him and at one point when we were all together, he began to shed a few tears. We were there all night now knowing when the end would come. It wasn’t long though as we watched his last breath leave his lungs. A silent moment before the tears flooded from each of our eyes. There was pain that followed for all of us but there was finally freedom for him.

Freshman/Sophomore Year- College.
My grandma wasn’t always good about going to the doctor. She wanted to die as soon as her husband did many years ago, but she held on hope. She was a stubborn woman. She neglected to continue her mammograms until she was no longer living alone. My mom and her siblings finally moved her here once she was no longer safe living alone. She had her first mammogram appointment in years and it didn’t show good results. Cancer.

More scans came and we learned it had metastasized throughout her body. She began chemotherapy and I would often come home to spend time with her and my mom to accompany her to treatments. We enjoyed good food, played games, and had many laughs. From the signs from my grandpa, we could see as she began to slow down, the cancer taking effect. Near the end she spoke of a beautiful garden, one filled with these amazing butterflies, similar to the ones my grandpa had seen. She also said she saw little figures walking across the floor and my dog Sophie hosting a car race holding the checkered flag. The delusions meant the end was nearer than we thought. It was near the end of October and I was home every weekend. I was told I should return to school because my grandma was fighting and she probably wouldn’t pass before the next week, but they were wrong. As I was on the couch with my two roommates watching the cubs play in the World Series, I was told she had passed. I’d just saw her two days prior and begged my mom not to leave, assured she’d live until I returned. They were wrong. I felt lied to. Another one taken from us.

May 2020.
My niece was about 2.5 when my brother and sister in law noticed a bulge on her side. She had one doctor say this was normal as she was just a skinny little girl. A couple of weeks later, another doctor had feelings of the complete opposite. She was told to go get an X-ray immediately and return for the results right after. They noticed a mass on her kidney. They were rushed to the children’s hospital to get another scan and another opinion. It only took a couple of hours to learn that it wasn’t just a mass, it was a tumor, a wilms tumor. Cancer. How could my 2.5 year old niece have cancer, not her, not again. With the pandemic in the early stages, the journey was tough letting both my brother and sister in law stay with her due to the highly strict restrictions in place. Many months of chemo and heart break watching my nieces hair fall out and her smile fade. We were only allowed to be 6 feet apart, not close because her immune system was just too weak. To not be able to hug, kiss, or hold her hand was heartbreaking. She wanted nothing more than to be able to play again, but she couldn’t. She would try to sneak around the rules, but we knew better. We learned that her cancer had spread to the area around her lungs, something that is commonly seen with this type of cancer. Then came 9 months of chemo and some weeks of radiation. Come January, she finished her treatment and a final scan was done to see what her current prognosis was. Cancer free. She’s still in remission and isn’t a survivor yet due to the 5 year requirement, but she’s a superhero to us.

My great uncle and aunt both died of cancer as well. My mom and brother both prone to skin cancer, but it has not reached the stages of melanoma yet. Cancer has plagued my life, a reality that feels all too normal. It doesn’t get any easier to hear another family member being diagnosed, but it seems almost inevitable that it will happen again. Each year on my birthday, I wish for cancer to leave my family alone. As a teacher and not a scientist, I vow to keep this my birthday wish and to continue to support cancer research to help other families not suffer the same fate.

-Anonymous