My Pap Turning Points In My Life

In this article, Sarah Cotterill writes about how cancer has changed the way she sees and processes the world she lives in today. During this hard time of her life she has experienced both highs and lows throughout. Cotterill is only 29 years of age but feels she has the knowledge to speak in this topic since she has experienced it first hand.

In fifth grade I found out my mom had breast cancer. I didn’t fully understand what it meant at the time, but as I got older I understood the severity of the situation my mother had to face. Eight surgeries and seven years later she is cancer free but still faces severe nerve damage and lots of doctors appointments and physical therapy. This put strains on me to take care of her and to do everything in my power to make her day easier by having one less thing to worry about: me. This was, and continues to be my driving force and motivation in school, my extra curriculars, and every day life choices.

This past summer, I, along with my mother and father, travelled to St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital in Memphis, Tennessee. My mom had been invited to participate in the St. Jude For Life Study because when she was around six to eight years old, she had a form of leukemia called Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia. This particular study is to help all present and future St. Jude patients and help to research for a cure. While there, I saw first-hand how cancer can affect a family. You can just see all of the stress, the worry, the exhaustion, the tiredness, the fear, and the tears on the families’ and the patients’ faces.

Summer of 2012, my grandfather was diagnosed with stage four Glioblastoma, and given only one year left to live. He had gone to have surgery earlier that week for the removal of his progressive tumor; his condition began to grow worse. The doctors got the tumor on the first try, but it was going to be a while before my grandfather felt back to normal. My family had many more trails and hardships to face in the near future.

Cancer is sometimes referred to as the big C, the C word. When people hear it, they freeze up in silence as though they have seen a ghost. In October, 2005 at the age of 3 I was diagnosed with a rare cancer that only affects 2 to 3 people out of million. After laying on the couch for several days, and complaining of a stomach I was taken to the doctor there we found out that I had Liver Sarcoma. At this time my mom was in the navy so I was admitted into Madigan Army Medical Center, but left soon later and went to Children's Hospital. I didn't really understand what was happening at that time because everything was happening, so fast that I couldn't keep up. From my Nana moving from Texas to Washington St to live with us, to being in the hospital

Cancer has played a huge role in my life recently. It started when dad was diagnosed with prostate cancer when I was a junior in high school. He tried to remain strong and act like he wasn’t scared, but you could tell he was terrified and depressed. On a few occasions I went with him to his radiation treatments and I was immediately impressed with the radiation therapists. They were always smiling, and trying to make the worst time of some people’s life better. When my dad talks about his cancer experience he always talks about how much of a positive impact his radiation therapist had.

Papa had left us in early March the spring before for his mistress and ever since, Mama has cried every night without him by her side. This took a toll on my brother and I. I would cry for a week after Papa left, but that was all, however, Henry took it much worse. Papa and him were two peas in a pod. Papa and Henry would play catch in the yard on a sunny day, then afterwards grill steaks. On rainy days, they would build beautiful and flawless model cars. Papa and I never had this time together, I would always be helping Mama with her sewing or cooking.

Papa was 93 years old but in remarkably good shape, and death was the last thing on any of our minds. We weren’t fools; we knew that we only had a handful of years left with Papa. However, never did we think to count time in months. Never did we expect this to be our last day with Papa. In a way, however, it couldn’t have ended more fittingly. Papa passed away in the land that brought him the brightest days of his life, in the city that was entangled with his very

Supporting my uncle through his fight with cancer was a life changing experience that opened my eyes to the rapid pace of cancer development and to how devastating it can be to families involved. My role in his time consisted of supporting him closely through his journey until his final hours. Although this was an emotionally draining experience, it taught me resilience and made me more determined to give the best support I can to people in

My parents had just attained engagement when they found out my dad had cancer. My dad had Non-Hodgkins Lymphoma stage four at the age of 25 in1996. My mom and dad were shocked but had hope my dad would make it. My dad has inspired me to be the best I can be and not let anyone stop me. This unexpected event happened before I was born but tremendously affected me. This my dad’s unforgettable story.

16 years old. That’s how old I was when my whole life changed. Not only did I lose a man that raised me and taught me to be the best version of myself, but I was also diagnosed with Wegener’s Granulomatosis with Polyangiitis. The beginning of my junior year was, to put it lightly, hectic. The first day I missed went by, my head pounding as I sat in a hospital room. My grandfather laid in the hospital bed and I caught word of the diagnosis. Stage Four Pancreatic Cancer. That word, “cancer”, spoke volumes within my buzzing mind. I laid my head on my Papa’s bed next to him and began to cry, keeping my face hidden because I didn’t want him to see me cry. He ran his fingers through my hair and sang a song I’d heard my whole life, “You Are My Sunshine”;

Some people hear about cancer through the media such as movies, television shows, maybe even newspapers. Many people don’t understand how cancer impacts individuals until they experience it themselves or by the side of a loved one. The thought of a bug inside my sister trying to take her away from my family and I was devastating to hear at a small age. I was six years old when my sister was diagnosed. My family was crying and praying, there were strings attached all over Jéna’s body, gigantic balloons and stuffed animals that keeps repeated the

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.

Cancer is something that not only affects the person diagnosed with it, but also the people who know them. When my grandmother got colon cancer in 2008, the family was distraught with the news and didn’t know how to react. After she had died from cancer in 2009, I wasn’t aware of exactly what kind of cancer she had and how the severity was. I didn’t even know what each of the stages meant. After I found out what kind of cancer she had, I still wasn’t sure how it was caused, what kind of effects it had, what kind of treatments she had, and if there was any way it could’ve been prevented.

It all started with our family sitting at the dinner table with my mom crying, holding crumpled up tissues with black streaks of mascara on it. My dad nervous enough to say, “Your mom has stage four breast cancer.” Those words have stuck in my head clear as a bell for the last eight years. Our faces of curiosity soon turned into fear. As an eight year old I didn’t understand a lot of words grownups said, but those burning words were sharp knifes on my throat.