How To Write An Essay On How Ron Anderson Changed My Life

When my dad came home that evening he sat me down and asked me if I knew what cancer was. I had an idea so I just nodded my head, he went on to tried to explain to me how bad the cancer was that my mom had been diagnosed with. Seeing my dad so afraid scared me. The fear I felt then led me to realize that I needed to try and hide it because it would only hurt my dad more to see his children so upset. I did my best to help, I tucked my little sisters into bed while my mom was away at the hospital, read them stories and did the best I could at preparing snacks to comfort them. After my mom arrived home and she recovered from the surgery she started chemotherapy. The miserable treatment that attacks the cancer also makes her very ill. Every other week she was sick. Before every bad week I wanted to cry, but that wouldn’t help anyone. Lane and Kenna already were crying, if I cried it could only hurt my parents

On May 11th 2013, my grandma passed away due to pancreatic cancer. A little later that year on September 25th, my mom received a call from my aunt in Guam that my dad had passed away in his sleep. Then on May 14th 2014, my grandpa passed from complications of an allergic reaction to a medication. So within a year, I was left to deal with three immediate family deaths, one right after another. Losing such important figures in one’s life could leave someone depressed and unmotivated to move on with their own life and to rise above those challenges is difficult, yet possible. During this time of hardship, I grew discouraged and saddened, but over time I became motivated to set aside these struggles and make a change.

I realized that my duty was to share that feeling with people in my community who would otherwise not be exposed to classical music. I shared this idea with the musicians whom I knew from the area, my family. My cousin, siblings, and I, who play string instruments, began rehearsing trios, duets, quartets, and dance music. Each week we would plan where we would bring our music. Sometimes we brought ballroom music to a park, other times Pleyel duets to my elderly grandmother who lives alone. While playing violin duets at a family gathering, my young cousin sat beneath me and my sister’s feet, attentively listening to every duet that we played. An old couple sat and smiled on their bench one calm summer evening as we played a waltz in the park. A hiker asked to take our picture as we played Haydn’s “Sunrise” Quartet under the colossal trees that shaded us from the blazing summer

Andy was embarking on his second semester of his junior year in college. After a long bout with a cold and the sudden emergence of a protruding mass on his chest, he knew something was not right. Within a week, he received devastating news - a diagnosis of an aggressive form of bone cancer. The treatment regiment included two years of chemotherapy and radiation. The extensiveness of his cancer made surgical treatment impossible. After just his first dose of chemotherapy, he became septic and spent six weeks in an intensive care unit followed by weeks of rehabilitation. Although he had been optimistic about continuing to attend classes and staying involved with campus organizations throughout the treatment course, a disabled immune system and countless days in the hospital prevented this. His friends and peers became distant because his appearance and prognosis made them uncomfortable and speechless. He eventually relied on his mother and closest friends to take him to appointments because of increasing weakness and chronic pain. When his world was virtually turned upside down and he eventually lost much of his independence, Andy started to display symptoms of major depressive disorder.

As I read Old Yeller, I think about my own dogs death and how it changed me. It also made me think about how I could have been better to my dog. Fred Gipson, I believe you wrote the story to tell and explain to people why not judge people or animals on appearance. I am writing to you, Fred Gipson, so I can fully understand the book and why you wrote it. Was it related to your life?

It was a typical day in the McDougal household; my sister was acclimating to college life, my annoying little brother was pushing my buttons, and my only worry was whether I was going to pass my next bio test. My dad was getting ready for a business trip to Singapore but decided to stop by the doctors for a quick checkup for his abdomen. Scans came back showing that the bump on his belly button was metastasized Stage IV Liver Cancer. I was completely devastated and couldn’t comprehend how my role model could have so much chaos inside of him. It took weeks before I could go a day without crying as I thought about my future without one of my biggest supporters. It seems for every glimmer of hope for a new treatment, a new, insurmountable brick wall appears when the scans show the treatment’s failure. As cliché as it sounds, every day truly is a rollercoaster; some days better than others. However, we slowly have adapted to this new reality and have truly understood that falling down is a part of life, but getting back up is living.

At that point all I would ever hear from people was, “oh you poor thing”, or “I’m sorry!” The only thing I heard was people pitying me, but in contrary, those words and moments only sparked a strength that I never thought was achievable. I promised myself to turn those words that represented sorrow into drive to fuel that strength. The first memory that I realized that inner strength was when I was first told that I had cancer. I heard the door click open, five doctors appeared in their white coats, they would come in surrounding me at the hospital bed. I just laid there confused about why all of this was happening. None of them spoke for a minute. My guess is that they were trying to figure out how to tell a fourteen-year-old that she has cancer as if they expected me to start breaking down sobbing. Instead, my eyes refused to shed a single tear as just hearing the words, “ You have cancer.” Those three words turned my life upside down in a matter of a second. Then I proceeded to process them in my mind. Trying to calculate a solution as if it were a math problem. As if it was that easy, but I still managed to ask the question that I never

No one thinks that it will happen to them. No one thinks that one day it might be them walking into the doctor’s office, only to hear those three horrifying words – “You have cancer.” To say that cancer changed my life is an enormous understatement. Cancer took me on an insane roller coaster for two years.. turning, twisting, jerking. I never thought it would happen to me. I heard those three lethal words, but they were not spoken to me. My father was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer in December of 2014.

Despite my parent's divorce, I led a contented life. My dad lived in the outskirts of Denver, but his distance never kept him from maintaining an active role in my life. Back in Colorado Springs, I lived with my mom, little sister, and step-father. Growing up, I never felt that I truly fit in with any of my friends or even my family; like almost any other teenager, I felt awkward in my own skin. However, my focus quickly shifted away from myself. In November of 2013, my mother learned that she had Pancreatic Cancer. My bubble of protection from the world's problems promptly burst as I heard the diagnosis. My family did our research only to discover that the statistics were horrifying. The five-year survival rate for someone with any stage

When I was twelve years old, a close family friend of mine named Evan (who was my age) was diagnosed with brain cancer. At that age, I hadn’t been introduced to death and nor did I really know or understand what cancer was or that it was possible for people so young to die. Before his death at age thirteen, my sister and I would spend a lot of time with him playing videogames, watching movies and swimming in his backyard pool. We watched the process of Evan losing his hair, having cancer treatments, doing physiotherapy and becoming very weak and fragile and rejecting treatments.

I attended Squareville high school, along with about one hundred other kids. Squareville was small, population of about six hundred. I, being one of the six hundred, didn’t mean much to Squareville and I was well aware of it. I live with my mom, Joann, and my sister, Hannah; My dad passed away about a year ago. Our, now, three person, family isn’t nearly the same. We used to laugh and smile at breakfast, we used to tell jokes at dinner, and wish we could all be together during lunch but obligations made it infeasible. My dad refused to ever show he was in pain so the day my dad was diagnosed with cancer was shocking, then two weeks later he passed. The cancer was terminal and the doctors had caught it way too late. After he passed things

I will never forget my last day in the hospital after being diagnosed. Finally after nearly a month of bad food and sharing a room with a four year old having just been diagnosed with cancer they were finally letting me leave. I almost felt out of place returning back to my home Pulling up on my driveway I felt scared; I knew my life had changed forever. I distinctly remember clutching at my wrist, the wrist where my hospital identification bracelet was as if I was missing something. I tried holding back my tears; however, the more I tried the more futile it seemed. I kept replaying the doctor’s voice in my head, the voice I overheard from the hall when I was supposed to be sleeping. “Your son is very sick. His life is about to change forever and it will take time for him to adjust “ the doctor said to my mom. Thinking back to this, I can only dream of discovering Emerson then; how much better these last few years would have been if I had. I could

When I turned 11-years-old my whole childhood began to change my life went from being perfect to everything but perfect. One day I came home to hear the news my father, my best friend; my hero was diagnosed with stage 3 colon cancer. Not knowing the struggle my family was about to take on I just began to cry. I had a million things running through my head what’s going to happen? Will everything be okay? Why him? What is going to happen? With all these things rushing through my head all I could do was cry not knowing this was least worse to come.

I know I shouldn’t be eavesdropping. I don’t know what emotions to have about this. Last summer, my family found out that my poppop was diagnosed with stage 4 Cancer. The Cancer spread to his whole body. He got a few shots and the doctors said he was getting worse. He started to make a list of everywhere he wanted to go before he died. He wanted to visit Alaska, Canada, Washington D.C, and to the annual family camping trip to Frontier Town. As the weeks and months went on, the doctors said he was getting better until one day he showed up at the hospital. He told them the story of what had happened, “I was just walking around my house and I laid down on the couch, when I tried to stand up my legs gave out and I fell to the ground. No one was home so I couldn’t call for help.” The doctors were upset to hear that his legs were already giving out. They told him that he had to stay in the hospital for a little while and they put him on medication. The medication was helping him and the doctors thought that he was getting better, but they said that he should not be walking around anymore. The doctors said that if he wanted to get somewhere he has to move around by someone pushing him in a wheelchair. He visited Washington D.C and he said he had so much fun and that he was really glad he got to go there before he died.

When he collapsed from treatment-induced pulmonary complications and a flash metastasis, it was like waking into my worst nightmare. Three days later I watched my father take his last breath as he was surrounded by his family, his mother, wife, daughter and me. He drifted away over the course of 10 min or so, slowly fading. I remember thinking it was like watching him sail away on deployment with the Navy. The next few weeks are still a blur of emotion even 24 years later. I remember calling out the time when he took his last breath matter-of-factly. I remember saying I was ok, but within 10 minutes or so I was running down the hospital floor hall crying and eventually screaming in sorrow in the hospital floor waiting room at Bethesda Naval Hospital. We had the funeral 7 days later on Dec 23rd of 1992, and 900 miles away at a National Cemetery in Florida. I remember nothing of that Christmas beside the funeral. It was several more years before I fully understood and appreciated my feelings regarding my father’s death, and even now grief can still affect me especially on the