Personal Narrative: Relapse Of Colorectal Cancer

In my freshman year of high school my mother was injured in an automobile accident. My mother was always fragile because of her pre-existing heart condition, atrial regurgitation. Due to the accident, she went into congestive heart failure. The only choice for her survival were to perform an open heart surgery. The next 14 hour were the most excruciating hours of my life,I had never been so terrified. I had to be strong for her and the family, I had to be their rock. As my mother laid in the hospital recovering, I filled in the empty slot of mother's role. I was a high school student during the day and in the evening I was the chef, the caretaker, and the nurse. On the weekend I worked as a cashier to help our financial woes. I couldn't hold

In the fall of 1999 his doctor diagnosed my grandfather with terminal lung cancer. I was there that day when she showed him the x-rays of his upper body. Right on the outer edge of his left lung was a large white spot about an inch round, tendril-like rays shot out from it in all directions, and a tail curved over to the right side of his lung so that it resembled a meteor falling from the sky. I was there as his interpreter, translating the doctor 's words into Spanish. "Surgery is not an option...It 's difficult to say at this point, but considering the size of the tumor he may only have 6 months left to live.” I heard myself repeat the doctor 's words in Spanish, as though I was standing in the room merely witnessing the event. I

A disturbance in a Tuesday morning routine was a change of a lifetime: my brief car-ride nap was interrupted by a crash, then, the jarring of the ambulance. It was an unexpected awakening. Sixth grade social studies and spelling tests had to be put aside, as the rest of my day would be filled with the beeps of machines and chatter of scrub-clad trauma nurses. Suddenly, my mind was back in my body - and my first conscious words were my complaints of the uncomfortable neck brace, followed by my request to remove it. The nurses exchanged concerned looks. I would see those same eyes in my aunt when she visited me in the ICU, but the difference is that one look was worried for possible neck injury, and the latter was telling the news of my father’s death.

January 11, 2013, I wake up to yelling, prayers, and crying. I walked into the kitchen where all the noises were coming from and I found my mother on the floor crying, talking on the phone with my godmother. My father was there by her side, trying hard not to cry while supporting his wife. I didn’t know what was happening, this was the first time I’ve seen my mom so vulnerable and broken. My parents didn’t tell me anything other than my grandmother was in critical condition at the hospital, but with god's help she would overcome this hard time. My mom hung up the phone and went to “La Grande” a Mexican store to buy a card to call my uncle in Cuba, to see how my grandmother was doing. My godmother has two daughters who work at the hospital

My childhood and my innocence came crashing down when my dad told me the worst sentence that I’ve ever heard in my life, “Your mom has cancer”. There is nothing, no amount of mental or physical pain you can inflict me with, that could compare to what I felt in that moment. My dad gave us the news after my mom was taken to the hospital in the middle night because she could not breathe. So while we were hoping for her to breathe safely, we get hit with an even worse situation.

My hands became clammy and my heart started racing. I did not want to believe the words coming out of my mother’s lips, “His kidney failed three weeks after the operation, he is dead”. I was just 5 years old and I felt like there was no purpose to live. My father was everything to me. I already missed his genuine kindness, the way his smile formed whenever he talked to me about life, and the times where we had father-son time at the airport, watching airplanes fly. Standing there looking into my mother’s eyes filled with intent and worries, I was speechless. At this instant, I was able to budge a smile and move myself, despite being frozen from the news, to embrace my now widowed mother. Despite this tragic event, my dad had a dream, a vision that his two sons would achieve the American Dream filled with infinite opportunities that can be obtained with a higher education. To this day, I continually strive to live up to the American Dream my dad envisioned for me.

I never was really close with my grandfather. I’ve pretty much lived in Utah my whole life. I was born in Richland, Washington, but I have no memories of living there because my family moved here, to Utah, when I was two. The majority of my family, from both my mother’s and my father’s side, live in the northwest. I only go to Washington/Oregon maybe once a year. Even when I go I don’t see the majority of my family. Both my mother and my father have had issues with their parents and some of their siblings, which is why we don’t visit most of them. When I was younger, I went to my grandparent’s house in Pasco, Washington every summer. Even then, it was just me, my sister, and my grandmother. My grandfather

Tuesday afternoon. I was reading a book and drinking a cup of hot chocolate in my room, near the window. It was January, but everything looked so calm and nice outside. Suddenly, I heard my mom calling my name and she told me that we need to talk. I couldn’t recall that I made a mistake in the past days, but still, I was feeling worried and scared as all kids do. I went to the dining room trying to figure out what was going on. I could see the sadness in her eyes, a sign that there was a problem. She told me that she has been keeping a secret for a long time, but it is time for me to find out the truth. I thought that she is getting divorced or something of that sort but she was trying to tell me that my aunt whom I really loved was very ill. She had Parkinson’s disease.

Last year my uncle died of cancer. The past couple of years he has been battling cancer, it was tough to see him go but I’m glad he’s not suffering anymore. It was very tough for my dad at the time because he was very close to his brother overall.

Day two clinicals. This day went so much smoother. I had the same two patient as the day before and one got discharged and I got a new patient. I feel like my second day I had an amazing relationship with my one patient. I got her to eat a little more that day because I knew what to talk to her about. When people are happier they tend to eat more than being depressed. She really enjoyed my company. Since she had a stage 4 pressure ulcer, they got an air mattress bed. We had to move her out of her old bed onto this new bed. In which I was worried about because she was bed bound. We had more than enough people to help me accomplish this. I had about seven people help with this process. I am very grateful for all the help I receive for this. I got to help you mess with the

This is a Quote by Randy Pausch “It’s not the cards you are dealt but it’s the game you play.” This quote mean’s that you try to make the best at whatever life throw at you. You will never know what can happen in life. Say for instant a car that you about to buy at a dealership break’s down when you doing a test drive on the car. It was a great car with all the features you wanted but had a mechanical malfunction. If you would have bought the car it might have caused problems. But because you played the game correctly you won the game. The cards you are dealt in life they’re certain situation. The game you are playing is life. It’s weird because life is not a game it is a time frame in which you live. No one knows when they life will say game over so you play the cards you are dealt in the best way you can. Just because a certain situation is bitter don’t let that bring you down make the best of every situation.

Stomachaches have always been a huge part of my life. Everyone has them, but I think I’ve had more than the average kid. Throughout my childhood, I remember having numerous nights in pain and early morning vomit sessions. However, out of all of these memories there is one that was more terrifying than the others. One of the scariest days of my life was when I was admitted into the hospital because of a “stomachache.”

Waking up Amy felt the discomfort of pressure in her throat. Her groggy mind trying to remember what had happened, a flash of a memory -almost dreamlike- skated across her mind. Tires sliding across wet asphalt, the rush of the dense green forest racing by in a disorienting display, the ear piercing, stomach churning sound of metal on metal. Her eyes snapped open taking in her surroundings, the EKG machine giving a sound to her erratic racing heart. The room looked like your typical hospital room and even had the terrible sterile smell. Moving her hands around she found the nurse call button on the side of the bed, she wanted that tube out.

Quickly scurrying through the lobby with our hearts creating an earthquake , Hannah, Evan, and I had finally reached our destination, Room 307 of the Advocate Lutheran General Hospital. As we entered the room, Rosie lie faintly upon the stark white hospital bed which would be her home for the next seven months. She was diagnosed with stage three leukemia the summer of her freshman year.

At the age of five my one-year-old sister had a stroke, it took many months for research aids to diagnose her. She has a rare disease called Fibro-Muscular Displeasure, which caused her arteries to be very small causing blockage to the brain. Because of this my mother had to be in the hospital for 9 months alongside her. During this time I felt as if I didn’t have a mother and I resented my sister for taking her away from me. As I grew older I realized that she needed my parents’ attention more than I did and maybe if I had a psychologist to talk to, I would have been able to get through that difficult time in my life.