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My junior year of high school blew its enduring stereotype of “being the most difficult year of high school” clear out of the water. No college prep course or sat practice test could have prepared me for what I was about to encounter. There would be no preparation for what I was about to experience. Life decided to appoint its professors in the hard lessons of love, strength, courage, death, and tragedy to teach alongside the teachers of my scheduled curriculum. These professors of the abstract would teach their lessons and reveal the meanings of their fields of study through the diagnosis of my mother’s last and terminal diagnosis of cancer.
My mother had been diagnosed with cancer two prior times before it finally got the best of her in late May 2006. She was diagnosed with breast cancer in the ending year of elementary school, and with an operable brain tumor my sophomore year. She went through the horrors of chemotherapy, radiation, and surgery and prevailed both times. Cancer had been a lurking shadow throughout my childhood, but I never took it as seriously as I should have. As a kid growing up in a heavily Italian family, I never thought cancer would kill my mother. I always assumed she would live to be 103 like the rest of them, or the next most likely of events; a family member would murder her in the heat of one of our many loud and frequent arguments. I never thought it would happen any other way. But I was proven wrong when she was diagnosed with multiple inoperable tumors in her brain and back in late December 2005.
After an immature start in school, I finally sorted out my poor attitude and prepared for a serious year of academics. I chose rigorous courses to challenge me. In all honesty, I was excited for all my classes. My AP classes were my favorite courses, yet my hardest. Eventually varsity baseball would come to consume a gargantuan amount of my time come December, and with upcoming SATS and AP tests I knew I would have to work hard to stay ahead
Soon into the year my mother was diagnosed with her terminal cancer and everything changed. The abstract professors had begun their lessons. I never thought about how cancer killed people, and I didn’t come to understand until I watched it consume my mother. For three long months I watched as her physical strength and ability drained away. I watched her eventually drift into daylong naps only briefly interrupted by meekly said “hellos”, and then I watched her slide into nothing but mechanical breathing. Then I understood the horror of cancer, how it strips its victims of dignity while slowly killing them. I didn’t let this break me down; I knew my mother would force me to keep my chin up. So I did. During this whole time my father showed me courage. He stayed home everyday for three months caring for my mother. He did everything. I was proud to know he was my father. 99% of men can never do what my father did. Most would rely on others to ease their burden. My father did no such thing. He was there day and night suffering with my mother. It was then I understood what these professors wanted me to seize. Through their excruciating lessons, I learned what true love and courage is, and how only few men possess it.
During this time I maintained the highest marks in my tenure at school. My grades rose instead of dropped, and I knew my mother would be proud. I am proud knowing that I did not succumb.
My mother had been diagnosed with cancer two prior times before it finally got the best of her in late May 2006. She was diagnosed with breast cancer in the ending year of elementary school, and with an operable brain tumor my sophomore year. She went through the horrors of chemotherapy, radiation, and surgery and prevailed both times. Cancer had been a lurking shadow throughout my childhood, but I never took it as seriously as I should have. As a kid growing up in a heavily Italian family, I never thought cancer would kill my mother. I always assumed she would live to be 103 like the rest of them, or the next most likely of events; a family member would murder her in the heat of one of our many loud and frequent arguments. I never thought it would happen any other way. But I was proven wrong when she was diagnosed with multiple inoperable tumors in her brain and back in late December 2005.
After an immature start in school, I finally sorted out my poor attitude and prepared for a serious year of academics. I chose rigorous courses to challenge me. In all honesty, I was excited for all my classes. My AP classes were my favorite courses, yet my hardest. Eventually varsity baseball would come to consume a gargantuan amount of my time come December, and with upcoming SATS and AP tests I knew I would have to work hard to stay ahead
Soon into the year my mother was diagnosed with her terminal cancer and everything changed. The abstract professors had begun their lessons. I never thought about how cancer killed people, and I didn’t come to understand until I watched it consume my mother. For three long months I watched as her physical strength and ability drained away. I watched her eventually drift into daylong naps only briefly interrupted by meekly said “hellos”, and then I watched her slide into nothing but mechanical breathing. Then I understood the horror of cancer, how it strips its victims of dignity while slowly killing them. I didn’t let this break me down; I knew my mother would force me to keep my chin up. So I did. During this whole time my father showed me courage. He stayed home everyday for three months caring for my mother. He did everything. I was proud to know he was my father. 99% of men can never do what my father did. Most would rely on others to ease their burden. My father did no such thing. He was there day and night suffering with my mother. It was then I understood what these professors wanted me to seize. Through their excruciating lessons, I learned what true love and courage is, and how only few men possess it.
During this time I maintained the highest marks in my tenure at school. My grades rose instead of dropped, and I knew my mother would be proud. I am proud knowing that I did not succumb.