Sometimes it is worse to be the one standing on the sidelines. You wish that you could just take the place of someone that is playing the game. You don’t want to be just standing there helplessly. However, in my case, that is what happened. My mother was diagnosed with cancer when I was in kindergarten. I was very young, but it is a period of my life that I remember distinctly. Even though I was just a small child, and did not understand exactly what was going on, I was smart enough to realize that something was not right. The moment that I remember most was the day that my mom had to cut off all of her hair. As a child, my favorite thing to do was play with my mother’s long, beautiful, silky, blonde hair. I would twirl it this way and that, admire the effect if I put an alluring red ribbon in it, and make numerous amounts of braids. The day that she cut it off was the day that I realized that something was truly not right. I remember holding my mother’s hand as I skipped into our neighbor’s house; it was my neighbor who would be cutting her hair. I remember her sitting down in the chair and watching my neighbor timidly taking out the scissors. I remember the pang in my stomach as I watched her ponytail fall to the floor and just lie there, like sunlight glistening on the floor. I remember my sister running into the other room and I saw a tear fall down her cheek. She was older than I was and understood more of what was going on. I followed her, trying to look unperturbed. However, I could not hold back my own tears. As I scurried out of the room, I saw a tear trickle down my mother’s face. This was the first time that I had ever seen her cry. As we left I knew that she did not know that I had seen her tear. I also knew not to bring it up. She left smiling, as she always did, a pink bandana that I would see for many days, wrapped around her head elegantly.
That is the one day that I remember perfectly. The rest really is a haze. I reconnected with my best friend that I had had in kindergarten, and we somehow got on the subject of it. I had not remembered telling anyone. However, she told me stories that I had told her that I could not for the life of me remember. Trying not to be rude, I responded as if I had remembered telling her this. I guess we really do block out the bad things in our life and try to remember the good times.
A while ago I read a book called “Autobiography of a Face.” This book described the life of a young girl who had cancer and it described, in explicit detail, her entire treatment process. I remember feeling sick to my stomach when I read about it and imagined my mother in that position. The thing that perturbed me most was how the protagonist in the book always talked about her being extremely weak during her treatment process. The funny thing is, I don’t remember my mother once looking weak. I know she must have been tired, but the thing is, she never showed it. She managed to continue life with a smile on her face and never failed to come to every soccer game and every dance recital.
I also remember learning about cancer for the first time in biology. I had some basic knowledge of it, but never fully understood it. After learning about it, I realized how incredible my mother truly was. I remember the feeling I had when I was younger, during those times when I could sense her tiredness and sickness, that I would do anything to switch positions with her. My favorite game became Doctor. I would frolic around and bring my mother food and water and tell her to “eat and drink up.” I would have my stethoscope in hand and would feel so strong and yet so helpless. It really was like watching your favorite sports team losing. You can’t watch it; you would do anything to help them, but you’re just standing on the sidelines.
Luckily for me, my story ends happily, unlike many others. My mother was cured and is now celebrating nine years cancer free. I still remember the first day that I realized that I could make a complete braid out of my mother’s hair again. That day, I spent hours just running my hands through the beautiful hair. That is the thing about diseases like cancer. They affect everyone around you. Everyone feels what is going on, and everyone, in their own way, gets their own sense of completion. My mom received her sense of completion as she left the hospital after her final chemotherapy session. My sense of completion was making the braid again, just like old times. No matter what problem you are facing, if you give it time and remain strong, things can and will get better. I realize that I am incredibly lucky to have someone as strong as my mother to look up to. I never want to have to watch from the sidelines again, and I hope that nobody else has to either. However, for now, while a cure is still being searched for, the best thing that we can do is exactly what my mother did; keep a positive outlook and stay strong and carry on. It has really inspired me to try and make a change for the better. I have always done all in my power to help, including harvesting some of my own talents by doing “Runs and Walks for a Cure.” When I’m older I hope that I can contribute even more to finding a cure. I do not plan on just standing on the sidelines ever again.