Other personal experiences include two of my siblings, who served in Iraq, and were exposed to enemy gunfire while serving. I lost my grandmother eight years ago, who was my rock in every possible way. My grandmother was diagnosed with Leukemia, which she kept from everyone in my family until two months before her death. I believe family stress developed due to her sudden death. Aside from family stress, I personally struggled with my grandmother’s death, who reflected as a woman with great strength and lots of wisdom; who also taught me values, honesty, and community. Further, five years later, in the year 2009, I lost another family member to gunshot violence, who was shot in the head and died instantly; this family member was also close
A personal issue that I witnessed was seeing my grandmother dying from colon cancer. Between the ages four and five, I was taking care of my grandmother before she passed away. Before my grandmother passed, she stated that, “You are doing an amazing job at being a nurse since you are my little nurse”, her words moved me in numerous of ways that I can’t explain which motivated me in becoming a nurse. Helping around the house with my grandmother while everyone else was a work, I heated her food in the microwave, knew when it was time for her to take her medicines by the sequence of her favortie shows, made sure she got her rest, and took people phone calls without writing down their names and numbers. Throughout my elementary days on to now,
It was in that same year, 2002, that I watched my grandmother succumb to a lengthy battle with ovarian cancer. My grandmother worked as an LPN for nearly twenty years, and it often said in my family that I took after her in more ways than just physically:; I had inherited her work ethic and her sunny disposition, her tendency to always look on the bright side of life even when things got rough. I was her firstborn granddaughter, and we were very close; growing up, I could remember her crispy-pressed scrubs that always smelled like a combination of starch and her favorite perfume, and the hard candies she kept in her pockets, both for her patients and for me.
It is January of 2005, and I am on my way to Columbus for my first chemotherapy. I was diagnosed with breast cancer in October of last year. My two sons, Jeff and Jason are coming along with me. Jeff is driving, Jason is in the passenger seat and I 'm in the back seat of Jeff’s 2002 GMC Envoy. I glance out the window and watch as we pass the Shoe. It was chilly and the winds were powerful on this winter day, snow was covering the trees and the ground, it was a beautiful sight of a winter wonderland. We are on our way to the James Center, where I 'm receiving my treatment.
I too understand and can identify with what Klein stated regarding personal connections. My giving to the breast cancer was also a walk-a-thon. We were also offered jerseys as a group, which was participating as part of a huge breast cancer walk event, that takes place annually. I was happy to donate to such a cause, but unfortunately, I was not able to actually walk at the time of the event. The important thing was giving as much as I can afford to, and knowing that my portion can make a significant different tin the life of someone.
Entering my junior year of high school, I felt compelled to start a Bible study at my school. I enlisted some of my friends, and we began building the foundation of, Alive. We were aware that we would face animosity from peers, but we wouldn’t let it stop us. Unfortunately, administration was worried that we would spark an uprising of groups who wanting the opposite of what we were about. The red tape of separation of church and state was brought to our attention, even though we were not doing anything wrong. Nevertheless, my friends and myself put together a presentation and showed it to administration on why they could not stop us. As a result, I felt more empowered. I learned that with hard work and dedication, nothing can stop
I was nine years old when a strange lump formed on my left foot. I got it checked out and it turned out that it was a tumor. A tumor is a form of cancer. The real name for it was way too long for me to remember. The tumor was extremely sensitive I barely tapped it on a chair leg at Nick dennises house and my whole foot turned black and blue. I could hardly walk on it after I hit it on that chair leg. The tumor was roughly about the size of a half dollar. The doctors were wondering if they were going to do chemo or not. it was a two sided argument. there was an american doctor and an indian doctor. The indian doctor wanted to do chemo .The american doctor wanted to just do surgery. In the end the american doctor won the argument.
I was surprised to find out the amount of technology that I use with a given 24 hour period because I could not believe I was being exposed to technology 80% of my a day. Little did I know that my phone is 65% of that 80%. I rely on my smartphone because it helps me with everything I need to do and it saves me time the bad part of it is that I become more and more lazy because I went from using a pencil and paper for taking notes to using my cell phone to take notes. I rely on my cell phone because the notes I took could come in handy when I am on the subway because I can review the notes and study them on the bus ride home rather than pull out my book and study while everybody is staring. I would consider giving up my cell phone
As young boy my mom went to the doctor and they discovered a cist on her pancreas. When she told us I was distraught and was scared because this is the first time in my life that my family was really hit by something none of us could control. Luckily the procedure was easy and they removed it without a problem. This past year my mom was diagnosed with breast cancer and my uncle with brain cancer. My mom had a surgery performed in May to remove the cancer cells and had to do six weeks of radiation. They did the same thing with my uncle but this past summer they found a mass on his spine that was cancerous and they told us it was only a matter of time. He died this past month. It was painful to just watch as his body just slowly started
Disorder can be experiences by numerous people in numerous ways—vicious or innocuous—but I experienced disorder in the most fatal way: the death of a parent. Disorder, to me, is when an event changes the way you live and view your life; while in the process of change, turmoil persists. On July 1st, 2010, my mother, spending hours outside, received the most appalling phone call. Not thinking anything of it, I stayed in my room chatting with a friend on my new Facebook account; however, I knew subconsciously that something in the atmosphere was off. When my mother reluctantly walked into my room, I knew what she would say without any context: my father had passed away. For a while, my days were inundated
My disordered soul did things to my body that I cannot imagine doing to myself now. I deserted myself in my room and survived in the dark. Devouring only my sorrows and gulping my tears silently. You were a heartbreaking blood sucker that intoxicated me with stages of the yellow fever. First, you infected my mind with your smile and the way you talked to me. Second, you hid these emotions deep in my brain that I actually saw past them. Last, when I least expected it you silently appeared out of the blue and poisoned me. My emotions played games on my heart and I was unaware of anything that was happening around me. I just felt heartbroken at first because it was so sudden and I was in denial.
When I was little, I always had lots of fevers and headaches. We didn’t know what was causing them. On February 14, 2007, I had been diagnosed with stage 4 Neuroblastoma. I went through 5 rounds of chemotherapy, surgery, radiation, Accutane and antibody treatments. I then became cancer free for a year; I thought this was the end. I thought that I had beat cancer but then life threw a curve ball my way. I went back for my checkups and the doctors observed a lymph node near my heart. This was my first relapse and I couldn’t help but feel a little defeated. My doctors decided to start me off with surgery with the hope of getting rid of the lymph node faster. I then continued on with radiation and chemotherapy. I was once again declared cancer free. I was so ecstatic; I would finally be able to have a normal childhood. I would be able to play with my friends and not spend as much time in the hospital. I lived the next 2 years happily. I enjoyed being able to perform tasks that every child could perform. In August 2010, a lymph node was discovered behind my pancreas. This was my 3rd relapse; at this point, I was determined to beat cancer. I had beat it twice so what was
“Your grandmother has cancer.”, said the Nurse. I felt like the world paused for that second. My grandmother and I are very close. When my parents went out to work, she would always take care of my brother and I. She would help us do our laundry, dishes, and cook for us. When she was going through chemo, she didn’t live with us, instead, she was placed into a senior home.
The misty September air froze against my skin; at least, it felt like it did. As we walked along the river, I debated the effectiveness of a faking an injury. Would we stop if I was hurt? Or would we continue to shuffle on, herded by orange traffic cones and dreary-eyed volunteers? Even now, years later, I still marvel at the fact the race starts at 8:00 AM. Whoever had that idea must not have recognized the pain it would cause my nine year-old self. Marching throughout downtown Portland, I felt a distinct similarity to the toy soldiers by brother had been so fond of. While we were disorganized and reckless, we walked quietly, with a common urgency. The comparison could as we ascribed to the large white lettering across my grandmother’s back: Survivor. In fact, I was surrounded by several women wearing loud, magenta shirts, all inscribed with the same word. At the
I asked God " why god do you have to take him, he 's so young?"