Personal Narrative: My Father On Going Battle With Cancer

Cancer. Six simple letters forming the most complex word a seven-year-old could ever comprehend. I couldn’t even spell it, let alone know what it meant. All I knew was that it was killing my father. I had lost my grandmother and both grandfathers by that time. Loss was something I had already grasped. My dad was dying and the one person in my family that I really needed, my brother, was off deployed across the world. It was incredibly difficult to not have him around during this time and everything was going downhill faster than the speed of sound.

You never know how essential a person is to you until they are no longer in your life. 7.6 million pure lives are lost every year due to this distressing disease. The volleyball team of Ontario High School was fortunate enough to promote awareness for various types of cancers. Our creative way to get the school and community involved is hosting a volley for a cure match and auctioning prizes off and having a bake sale. This hits home with me because my papa battled this life threatening disease for over thirty years. Thousands of dollars are raised in creative ways and donated in optimism to finding a cure to kick cancer's butt.

Supporting my uncle through his fight with cancer was a life changing experience that opened my eyes to the rapid pace of cancer development and to how devastating it can be to families involved. My role in his time consisted of supporting him closely through his journey until his final hours. Although this was an emotionally draining experience, it taught me resilience and made me more determined to give the best support I can to people in

Have you ever felt so broken and lost that you believed you simply couldn’t keep going on in life, as if the barriers of your life caved in and suffocated the very existence in which you lived? This pain was all that I knew in the months following my grandfather’s loss to cancer in July of 2008. Fighting until his dying breath, it was a moment in my life that rocked and shattered my heart like fragile glass. His death required me to adapt to and appreciate life and showed me that no obstacle is to big overcome if you maintain hope and a positive outlook.

It was October 22, 2017….first period of freshman year my best friend Casey got a call to the office. She came back in the room and looked distraught there were tears rolling down her face. Casey never had this look on her face and she never

An experience that has had a big impact on me was in 2010 when my mother was diagnosed with stage three triple-negative breast cancer. Triple-negative breast cancer is an extremely rare and aggressive cancer. It can't be easily treat because there are no hormone receptors that trigger growth or stop growth of the cancer. Doctor have to try every known treatment and hope that it would work. During seeing my mother have to go through all the surgeries and treatment it changed my view on the medical field. I once saw the medical flied as gross and now see it as interesting and life-changing. After see how all the surgeons and doctor changed my mothers life and saved her it has made me want to be one of them.

Being a cancer survivor presents many persistent challenges. Despite those challenges, I graduated high school with honors. Hope for an uncertain future comes in part from the salvation I find in being a college student.

After a while of sitting in my grandparents living room mindlessly playing with my toys I decided to get up. I walked towards the commotion going on in the small hallway connecting the living room to the kitchen. The gathering of people consisted of my mom, dad, grandpa, and grandma. Curious about what was going on I walked over to the group. I reached my mom and looked up to see that her eyes were bloodshot, as if she had been crying. I looked over to my dad and his face, like everyone else's, was grim. During this time I kept hearing one repeating word, cancer. I started to listen more closely to the conversation going on around me because even at the age of seven I knew that cancer was bad news. I listened intently and heard my mom explain how she had colon cancer.

I sat there cold and motionless, not even the sun on that warm summer day could bring me to life. “There is nothing left to do. This is the end.” The words played continuously in my head like a broken record. I had to find the willpower to stand, walk back into the hospital, and say my final goodbye to my mom.

Each of these individuals took time out of their schedules and consoled with my family. They had explained the treatment plan in detail, precautions, risks, and had answered all of our questions. At the age of thirteen I didn’t understand much of the details the doctors had explained. Although, I knew my father had cancer and he needed to be treated.  I saw my father undergo a thirteen-hour surgery, hyperbaric oxygen therapy, chemotherapy and radiation, and rehab. My father was strong enough and defeated cancer. This life experience has influenced me to become a physical therapist because I saw my father undergo physical therapy. By undergoing therapy sessions, he was able to walk on his own without a walker and speak more fluently.  Seeing my dad defeat cancer for the second time, motivates me to work harder and help others going through such situations. I hope I have the opportunity to provide and care for patients and their families as the

At the budding age of six years old I met my lifelong stalker. It’s quite ironic since we had such a thriving relationship in the beginning. We were attached to one another by the hip, and I grew so comfortable with her that sometimes I forgot she was there. She accompanied me to school, extracurricular activities, sports practices, and slept over nearly every night. One day this former best friend of mine knocked on my front door and ambushed me as soon as I cracked open the door hinges. She began hitting, kicking, and tearing my body apart until I could barely breathe. I tried to resist her, but before I was conscious again my brunette lox was shaved off until I was left completely bald. Tears trickled down my face as I noticed my childhood memories would be destroyed for eternity. As the reader you are probably questioning who would do such a thing, so I’ll tell you her name: Childhood Cancer.

As an 11-year-old child most kids worry about going outside to play with friends or on their cell phones not most, children worry about if there is going to be dinner on the table, or if the water is shut off, or if the electricity isn’t working. Most kids don’t have to grow up and act like an adult until their 18 or 19 years old. Not many children at the young age of 11 have to sit and wander if today or tomorrow is the last time they get to see their dad.

Living with cancer is an enormous challenge, and most of us are encouraged to try coping skills like yoga, meditation and patient support groups. While I have found several techniques helpful, expressive writing has been surprisingly therapeutic for me. This seemed to come out of nowhere. I had published journal articles, book chapters and scientific papers during my career. I had even written a few simple rhymes for social occasions and business functions, but I had never considered doing any creative writing before cancer struck. My cancer adventure began early in 2014 when a large tumor was discovered in my head and neck. This explained my recent hearing loss and the jaw pain I had felt for some time. It was an advanced, high-grade cancer,

On page 180 Gogol remembers how when his grandparents died he had not understood his parents grief and was annoyed by their rituals. When my own grandparents had died I didn’t share my parents feelings of sorrow. I had only met them once in my life and even hen for around a month. I was very young when we had met and I wasn’t that close with them. Those people from my parents home country pass on and my life remains unaffected. It is so strange how we can know someone without really knowing them and the thought that I will someday have to deal with the same emotions frightens me slightly. Gogol also goes through this as he is deeply affected by his father's death. In this day and age where we are so reliant on technology we don’t cherish life as much as we should. Nott just our own lives but others. Afterall we only miss something once it’s gone.

My father passed away in 1991, two weeks before Christmas. I was 25 at the time but until then I had not grown up. I was still an ignorant youth that only cared about finding the next party. My role model was now gone, forcing me to reevaluate the direction my life was heading. I needed to reexamine some of the lessons he taught me through the years.