(no subject)
I just wrote this paper in the last 30 minutes. Mrs. Birkley let us choose from 3 topics. A sickness/hospital visit. Describe another family through a childs perspective or a memoir of a grade school teacher. I don't like her, and my paper kinda sucks.
t’s not often in the mind of a sixteen year old, that life is questioned. The task of contemplating death should be left to the elderly, not the young. Never in my life had I turned the idea through my head that I could in fact, face death.
It was a cold day, with ice falling from the sky. I happily left school, for a doctors appointment, hopped in my dads truck and drove away. Dad and I laughed as some kook danced alone in his red mini-van. The office was nearly impossible to find, but after a near twenty minute search, we arrived to the warm waiting room surprisingly early.
An old man sat in the corner talking to a young lady. His laugh had the rasp of a frog, and I couldn’t help but to giggle. As I laughed, I had to check the boxes telling my families medical history. “Does your family have a history of cancer?” ..I marked yes. Nothing to me though, I’m only sixteen. As I pondered my health, a scene kid sporting skinny jeans and an orange mo-hawk smiled at me. His hand was in a cast. I wondered what had happened to him. Had he been in a skate boarding accident, did some one step on him in a pit?
“Sydney, you can come on back?” Time to go, I walked back and took my seat, my dad stood, and we joked around until Doc. finally decided to join us. He didn’t have much to say at first, so he ordered me to get some x-rays of my wrist. A nurse named Jenny took me back into a small room, asked if there was any chance I was pregnant, then continued to take a few x-rays. I returned to the small room to await the diagnosis. Tendinitis, an old fracture, I thought the pain couldn’t possibly be caused by anything more.
The doctor re-entered the room, this time he was cold. The room grew small and I could find no smile in my heart. He placed the x-rays on the light up screen. I could see nothing abnormal, until he pointed out a small lesion right at the source of my pain. The doctor told us that they had found a hot spot in my w tumor. He ordered an MRI to be taken in the next week, and mentioned a bone and PET scan. I searched my brain, PET scan, PET scan, PET scan? It didn’t take long for me to realize that a PET scan is a cancer test.
As we waited to schedule an emergency MRI, my dad called my mom. I didn’t catch most of the conversation. The few words I did hear and the look on my dads face will never leave me though. “Yeah, she’s okay. No I don’t think she knows.” I fought to find a smile. After leaving the office we met my mom for lunch. Awkward conversation filled the table, as I pushed my food around my plate.
I returned to psychology class shaking, and maintained the shaking feeling for the next week and a half. A few days after the initial appointment Dad took me to get my MRI. A sweet lady named Susan explained what was going to happen, then asked if I had anything metal in my pockets. I handed over my lucky penny, and took my uncomfortable position on the table. I laid listening the radio, but only the saddest songs played.
As I pushed the loud clanking noises from the machine out of my mind, I couldn’t help but to imagine the outcome. I felt my deceased family member, a victim of cancer with me, but I still couldn’t help but to think of all the potential pain to come. I couldn’t possible have cancer. What if I had to wear a wig? What if I died? I sat in the MRI for what seemed an eternity.
Food seemed to be a commonality of these medical outings, because on our way home, dad stopped to buy me a blue slushy. He dropped me off at practice, where I had to explain to my instructor why I couldn’t practice. I watched the other girls on the floor with envy. I didn’t want to be sick, I wanted to be practicing like normal. I wanted to be sweating, I wanted to do the pushups, I wanted to feel my muscles aching from across the floors. I couldn’t though. I had to sit, and simmer over the thoughts.
One morning I got on the scale. Five pounds. I had lost five pounds, without even realizing it, in two weeks. This new realization only pushed worse thoughts into my head. I didn’t understand how this could be happening to me. I sat in school without any concentration. My grades seemed to reflect it too. I began to avoid my friends hoping I wouldn’t have to tell them.
Finally after a week and a half of waiting, I returned to the doctors office. The waiting room seemed much colder. My mom left work early to meet us. There was no old man laughing, there was no cute boy to flirt with. Instead I saw only a dirty sickly man and heard the music from the scene in the Lion King where the father dies. I hid my fears behind my vocab book, as I tried studied instead of waiting.
I entered back into the same examining room. My dad joked about one of the medical assistants. I pulled a chuckle from deep down. The doctor then entered. I instantly felt a wave of thankfulness as he smiled at me. He told me that the bone tumor was benign, and that any pain has been caused from over use, and tears. This all of course will come to haunt me with arthritis as I age, but no cancer!
In the next week, I laughed more genuinely, breathed the air more deeply, and love the people in my life more truly than ever. I’ve appreciated all the fights I’ve had since then, all the words I’ve heard spoken and every misfit hair on my head. It wasn’t long before I sent twelve inches of my long hair to locks of love, as I had been planning for sometime before my cancer scare.
I’ve learned to love the pain in my wrist. Each time I wrap my wrist up, or put my brace on, I thank the world for my tendinitis, but more importantly I think of those who have not been so fortunate as I have. I think of those who suffer from illnesses, and I send them my hope, and my love.
t’s not often in the mind of a sixteen year old, that life is questioned. The task of contemplating death should be left to the elderly, not the young. Never in my life had I turned the idea through my head that I could in fact, face death.
It was a cold day, with ice falling from the sky. I happily left school, for a doctors appointment, hopped in my dads truck and drove away. Dad and I laughed as some kook danced alone in his red mini-van. The office was nearly impossible to find, but after a near twenty minute search, we arrived to the warm waiting room surprisingly early.
An old man sat in the corner talking to a young lady. His laugh had the rasp of a frog, and I couldn’t help but to giggle. As I laughed, I had to check the boxes telling my families medical history. “Does your family have a history of cancer?” ..I marked yes. Nothing to me though, I’m only sixteen. As I pondered my health, a scene kid sporting skinny jeans and an orange mo-hawk smiled at me. His hand was in a cast. I wondered what had happened to him. Had he been in a skate boarding accident, did some one step on him in a pit?
“Sydney, you can come on back?” Time to go, I walked back and took my seat, my dad stood, and we joked around until Doc. finally decided to join us. He didn’t have much to say at first, so he ordered me to get some x-rays of my wrist. A nurse named Jenny took me back into a small room, asked if there was any chance I was pregnant, then continued to take a few x-rays. I returned to the small room to await the diagnosis. Tendinitis, an old fracture, I thought the pain couldn’t possibly be caused by anything more.
The doctor re-entered the room, this time he was cold. The room grew small and I could find no smile in my heart. He placed the x-rays on the light up screen. I could see nothing abnormal, until he pointed out a small lesion right at the source of my pain. The doctor told us that they had found a hot spot in my w tumor. He ordered an MRI to be taken in the next week, and mentioned a bone and PET scan. I searched my brain, PET scan, PET scan, PET scan? It didn’t take long for me to realize that a PET scan is a cancer test.
As we waited to schedule an emergency MRI, my dad called my mom. I didn’t catch most of the conversation. The few words I did hear and the look on my dads face will never leave me though. “Yeah, she’s okay. No I don’t think she knows.” I fought to find a smile. After leaving the office we met my mom for lunch. Awkward conversation filled the table, as I pushed my food around my plate.
I returned to psychology class shaking, and maintained the shaking feeling for the next week and a half. A few days after the initial appointment Dad took me to get my MRI. A sweet lady named Susan explained what was going to happen, then asked if I had anything metal in my pockets. I handed over my lucky penny, and took my uncomfortable position on the table. I laid listening the radio, but only the saddest songs played.
As I pushed the loud clanking noises from the machine out of my mind, I couldn’t help but to imagine the outcome. I felt my deceased family member, a victim of cancer with me, but I still couldn’t help but to think of all the potential pain to come. I couldn’t possible have cancer. What if I had to wear a wig? What if I died? I sat in the MRI for what seemed an eternity.
Food seemed to be a commonality of these medical outings, because on our way home, dad stopped to buy me a blue slushy. He dropped me off at practice, where I had to explain to my instructor why I couldn’t practice. I watched the other girls on the floor with envy. I didn’t want to be sick, I wanted to be practicing like normal. I wanted to be sweating, I wanted to do the pushups, I wanted to feel my muscles aching from across the floors. I couldn’t though. I had to sit, and simmer over the thoughts.
One morning I got on the scale. Five pounds. I had lost five pounds, without even realizing it, in two weeks. This new realization only pushed worse thoughts into my head. I didn’t understand how this could be happening to me. I sat in school without any concentration. My grades seemed to reflect it too. I began to avoid my friends hoping I wouldn’t have to tell them.
Finally after a week and a half of waiting, I returned to the doctors office. The waiting room seemed much colder. My mom left work early to meet us. There was no old man laughing, there was no cute boy to flirt with. Instead I saw only a dirty sickly man and heard the music from the scene in the Lion King where the father dies. I hid my fears behind my vocab book, as I tried studied instead of waiting.
I entered back into the same examining room. My dad joked about one of the medical assistants. I pulled a chuckle from deep down. The doctor then entered. I instantly felt a wave of thankfulness as he smiled at me. He told me that the bone tumor was benign, and that any pain has been caused from over use, and tears. This all of course will come to haunt me with arthritis as I age, but no cancer!
In the next week, I laughed more genuinely, breathed the air more deeply, and love the people in my life more truly than ever. I’ve appreciated all the fights I’ve had since then, all the words I’ve heard spoken and every misfit hair on my head. It wasn’t long before I sent twelve inches of my long hair to locks of love, as I had been planning for sometime before my cancer scare.
I’ve learned to love the pain in my wrist. Each time I wrap my wrist up, or put my brace on, I thank the world for my tendinitis, but more importantly I think of those who have not been so fortunate as I have. I think of those who suffer from illnesses, and I send them my hope, and my love.