“I told you so.”
Now that I look back, those were probably careless words that my mother would take to heart, but I was too caught up in my own shock after hearing the news.
My sister was in the hospital because of a brain tumor.
No, it wasn’t deadly, but it was bad. I didn’t get to see her much and I think that’s how my mom wanted it; she didn’t want me to see my sister in pain, but I was scared for her. Scared because, for once, my mom couldn’t tell me that everything was going to be alright.
The doctors said it was rare. They said the tumor was half the size of the doctor’s fist.
But even with the all of the mess, I still wondered, why did this have to happen to her? How could we have lived months, maybe even years, with this cancer like a beast, living in our house, unnoticed? At first I was scared, but then I was angry.
I wanted to do something, but I knew I couldn’t. It was as if the doctor was holding his scalpel, and my heart.
Cancer begins when cells in a part of the body start to grow out of control. There are many kinds of cancer, but they all start because of out-of-control growth of abnormal cells.
I can still remember the day of her first surgery. I remember feeling dizzy as I watched my feet step across the linoleum tiles all the way to my sister’s room. I remember hearing her telling my mom that if the surgery was successful, she wanted a pack of Twizzlers. I remember wanting to cry.
She didn’t get her bag of Twizzlers.
More surgeries lied ahead, but they were only few of the many obstacles to come. The operations had left my sister with a temporary inability to walk, a strip of missing hair and teary eyes. It was almost as if the tumor had swallowed up half her summer and left her in a cold hospital room.
I think my grandma took it the hardest. My mom had me stay with Nana and at night I thought I could hear her cry. I remember listening to her pace on the floor above me, waiting for more bad news. I felt like I needed to be the strong one: It was my job to bear it because if I didn’t, I wasn’t quite sure what would happen to us.
But it wasn’t all bad news. My sister was recovering. One last surgery seemed to be successful and my sister slowly built up the strength to walk again. Her friends visited often, and posters and presents decorated the bland hospital walls. Her birthday was coming and she was set to be home by then.
Then the homecoming: It was my sister’s senior year and we had reached the point where she could lightheartedly take her awful school picture. My family could laugh about the lack of preparedness in birthday presents – she got home from the hospital the day before her birthday.
Looking back, I see now that although this tumor had the ability to tear our family apart, it only made us stronger. If you too are dealing with a loved one who has cancer, check out the Web site, Cancer Really Sucks!, which offers healthy and effective coping strategies. You can also post stories about your situation, ask other teens questions, and speak with professionals through live chat.
Remember, you’re not alone. Together, we can fight the battle against cancer.
