My mom had come and picked me up early, that was very strange, because my mom had never done that unless I was sick or it was my birthday. It was neither my birthday or was I sick. She said we had to go away for a while. I knew somethings have been happening to my brother over that past couple months. He had looked ill and we were visiting the doctors a lot. That day I had learned that my brother had cancer. I didn’t know what it was, but I knew it wasn’t something that will go away easily. I felt like my world had ended. Every day, the lump on his arm had grown bigger and bigger. To me it was just a lump on his arm, it was hard and meaty. But to my parents it was the sight of death. I could see that it was deforming his arm, and causing him a lot of pain. At this point, none of us knew what to do but to hope and pray. My brother was only ten years old at this point.
We ended up staying over in Seattle, while my brother was at the children’s hospital, my mother and my other brother and me stayed at the Ronald McDonald house for cancer patients and family. Which was a wonderful place for the parents and families of there hospitalized children. This was a little to no cost for the families who stayed there. A lot of people would visit, such as Ronald McDonald and Santa Clause. Just so the little kids could celebrate and be happy for awhile. While my family was there we had visits from hockey teams and mascots. They wanted to keep the place in a positive mood. A lot of the children there were lively and friendly, they looked without fear. One thing I will never forget was what one little girl had said to me, “I know i’m sick, I know that I will die today, or maybe tomorrow. But i’m not afraid, my mommy will be holding my hand.” I had learned so much throughout these two years. I learned that death is inevitable and can happen, and when it happens they go to a better place. It was hard having friends, my mom said to not get so close to someone because they may not be there again the next day.
There was a beautiful ceremony, for my moms friends son. We were all very close. Her son had cancer and so did my moms son, her son was around my age I believe so we had all bonded. Her son didn’t win the battle, we had all gathered in a park, had a celebration. I learned to not despair but to be joyful, I looked at it that they were no longer suffering, that they had won just not the way we may have wanted. At the end of the day we all had a balloon, his favorite color, red. At the same time we all let the balloon go as to guide her son.
When my brother had started his surgeries and chemotherapy, he had changed greatly. He wasn’t as happy as I remember, before this all happened. Which I guess was a huge side affect of his treatments. He never wanted to do anything, but my mother always made him do something. He had to walk everywhere, he had to ride his bike, go to the movies. Whenever he was to tired to do anything, my mom would hold his hand while he did it. She said its better to do something than to not do anything at all. His hair had fallen out; he had lost his appetite sometimes even. When I saw him lying on his bed, I knew then and there that life was too short, and it couldn’t be taken for granted. That life was like a box of chocolates, I never knew what I was going to get till I got it. When I got it, I had to deal with it. The greatest day was when we learned my brother was going to be all right. We had fought for so long and when we knew that it was finally over. You can say that we jumped for joy. All the hard work had paid off, I think my brother was the most happiest of us all. He could finally go back home and do all the stupid things a now 12 year old boy would do. After everything he had his last surgery, which I don’t think was very serious, just some minor detailing, and they healed him up nice and good. I remember when they first took out the tumor, the doctors got to show us pictures of it. I will tell you now, I don’t eat meatballs anymore.
He had to go back every month for a year and then every six months and then one last time for his checkups. And each time we were afraid it would come back, but the cancer had stayed away for good. He had to do his own therapies at home, which of course he never wanted to do, but he did it. The surgeries had left him with a long scar down his bicep. He will never have the same mobility in his arm like he had before, it left a nice indent on his elbow where the tumor was, it was hard for him to do the sports that he wanted to do, but he managed. My brother was a fun loving child, a bit of a trouble maker; he took his life for granted. He expected everything, and wanted everything. He didn’t think much of the consequences. I think he learned what I had learned as a life lesson. He never took his life for granted anymore because it was like a gift, and gifts can be taken away. The scar on his arm will always remind him that he was a survivor, and that life cannot be taken for granted and no one can live forever. Life is a gift, it can be taken away just as easy as it is given to you. Our time in Seattle was a happy one, not once did we let this problem get to us. My family still did things with each other, because we knew that staying home and doing nothing wasn’t going to solve anything. We had to make the most of it, and thats exactly what we did.
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