"February 1, 2010" by Kendra G

     I’m sure most of us have fond memories of the fifth grade, whether it be recess, art, dodgeball, or maybe just hanging out with friends. I, too, was having a great year up until the second half of the school year. January of 2012, I began to have headaches. They were the dull, annoying, but bearable kind. I loved school and didn’t want to miss out on any activities, so I ignored it. There were several times I told my parents and they would take me to urgent care, but each time I was told it was just a migraine or the flu. Well, the doctor said I was fine, so I must be fine. I continued the rest of the month based off of this up until my left eye started crossing. Again, I did my best to ignore it but eventually I told my parents and they took me to see the ophthalmologist. After a couple tests, he couldn’t figure out why my eye was crossing, until he looked inside. He noticed swelling on my optic nerve and referred me to get an MRI.
     After the scan, I went out to lunch with my mom only for the doctor to call an hour later to tell me to go to the ER immediately. After getting checked in, I was told that they had saw lesions, midline shifting, and frontal lobe swelling in my brain. I spent the night in the ER and was checked into the ICU the following morning. My days were filled with tests, being poked every other hour, and not getting enough sleep. After day five the doctors still had no idea what was going on inside my head, so they decided the best option would be brain surgery. I was only 10 at the time, but if the doctor said that I needed surgery, then I guess I needed surgery. Luckily, an oncologist stepped in moments before my surgery and requested that I have a full-body MRI first. After a couple hours of scans and testing, the results came in. On February 1st, 2012, I was diagnosed with cancer.
     I remember so vividly this moment and it’s something I wish nobody has to experience. The silence after this statement was chilling as the room filled with shock, confusion, and terror. The doctors diagnosed it as Hodgkin’s Lymphoma, blood cancer, and I would need six rounds of chemotherapy. After a few more surgeries and several more tests, I was finally situated in the pediatrics department where my day were filled with chemotherapy and the news channel. The walls were white and the only thing in the room to keep me occupied was the television that only had about 6 channels for kids. I still get anxiety to this day everytime I hear an IV pump beep, an indication that I was running low on fluid or medicine. After about a month in the hospital, I was finally cleared to go home. Home. As relieving as being able to go home was, it was not. My immune system was incredibly weak and I could only make it halfway up the stairs before feeling like I was going to faint. I lived in my room and had limited contact with anyone fearing that I would get sick or develop an infection. This, was by far the worst part of this whole experience. I could handle the chemotherapy and the nausea and the needles and the surgeries and everything else, but I could not handle being so alone. The social isolation deterred my mental health and I became shallow and timid.
     However, while I was home between rounds of chemo, A teacher at my elementary school volunteered to be my home school teacher twice a week. Ms. Young became my mentor and a friend that I so desperately needed. I thrived learning again and excelled in my academic courses. But of course, there were days where I could barely move from the couch, but still, she would accommodate to my needs and do her best to still teach me. After developing this

friendship, I found it was easier to talk with everyone and was more social during my time in the hospital.       After a few more months of constantly going back and forth between the hospital and home, my doctor officially declared that I was cancer free. It was such an awe-inspiring moment knowing that I had beaten cancer. Unfortunately, it was still a bitter-sweet victory since I had a long road to recovery. I still deal with some of the side effects of the chemo, but I have learned to live around them and to live up to my potential.
     This may sound odd to some people, but I am actually grateful for this whole experience. Having such a traumatic experience at such a young age, I learned how fragile life is and how to live life knowing that nothing is ever guaranteed. I stop to appreciate the little things, whether that be a pretty sunset or a dumb joke. I have also learned how important time is, not just with other people, but also myself. If there is someone I am not fond of, I am not going to waste any time on that person. I will always be a kind person, as everyone should be, but if someone is toxic, I will not let them consume the time that I have left. Overall, my experience has been life-altering, but not necessarily in a negative way, and I am grateful for the life that I have and what I plan to do with it.