Personal Narrative: Dr. Sebi Family

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

Grams finally agreed with her family that it was time to get the cough checked out. Following an X-ray, the doctor diagnosed Grams with phenomena, and she was sent back home with antibiotics. A week later, the cough and back pain were only getting worse, so she went back in. The doctor proceeded with an MRI, and it revealed that a malignant cancer had originated in her lungs and had already spread into her spine. We had embarked on a journey that none of us were ready for. I wanted to put blame on the first doctor who failed to notice her cancerous symptoms. I often wonder to myself how he could have missed it. Would Grams still be alive if the first doctor found it? I truly don’t think so, but the question still perturbs me. Being the naïve child I was, I thought some chemo and radiation would do the trick. Grams followed through with the treatment, but the hospital stay and painful sickness was not how she wanted to live for the rest of her life. During this time, I quickly realized the severity and harsh reality of cancer. I admired my grandma’s strength and cordiality through all of this. She continued to joke around and her laugh, along with her spirit, failed to fade away. Her positive attitude helped our entire family to remain strong. Our family decided hospice would fit Grandma’s wishes, and Grams agreed with “It’s a

During the 2007 I got great news, I was accepted at UNC-Charlotte. Meanwhile, I had no idea 2007 my world would be turned upside down with bad news. My mother’s broth and sister were both diagnosis with Cancer. What’s most painful both siblings pasted away six months apart? Meanwhile, more bad news came my way when I mother was diagnosis with Cancer and Renal failure. I talked to my mother’s medical team, they voice they never seen where three siblings having cancer all at once in the same year, just months apart. Consequently, my mother survived her cancer just after two chemo treatments. I came home every weekend to help with her care. One promise to my mother I made was not to drop out of school, it was important to her that I finished

On January 5, 2009 my father pasted away. He and I did not have the typical father-son relationship; we did not have a relationship at all. I presumed that it would have a little if any affect on me. However, as the semester continued, it seemed to get worse. Besides my father’s passing, several weeks later my grandmother was diagnosed with dementia. It was difficult for me to deal with, but it was more difficult for my mother to handle.

my broken spirit. Dr. Leigh somehow sensed this and got to work right away to foster a friendship, a partnership that would give me strength in mind and body to endure the process of total healing.

I may have not realised it but March 5, 2002 was the hardest day, even if I have no recollection of it. When you're 2 years old you don't recall much but snippets , like being given 2 small goldfish. Which is my only real memory of my father. Now for a while my aunt moved in after that day, I thought that was normal. Until I about was 5. I noticed many children getting picked up from daycare by their fathers. When I finally asked my mother where my father was she gave me a somber look and remained silent. Which was the response I’d constantly get she always had a difficult time communicating about him with me. It was hard- really hard. Especially when I learned the truth, about three years later.

After a while of sitting in my grandparents living room mindlessly playing with my toys I decided to get up. I walked towards the commotion going on in the small hallway connecting the living room to the kitchen. The gathering of people consisted of my mom, dad, grandpa, and grandma. Curious about what was going on I walked over to the group. I reached my mom and looked up to see that her eyes were bloodshot, as if she had been crying. I looked over to my dad and his face, like everyone else's, was grim. During this time I kept hearing one repeating word, cancer. I started to listen more closely to the conversation going on around me because even at the age of seven I knew that cancer was bad news. I listened intently and heard my mom explain how she had colon cancer.

My research family consists of five family members. Tanya is a 45-year-old African American woman; who works as a homemaker and provides beauty assistance to her local neighbors, such as being a make-up artist and a hair beautician. Tanya was raised in Louisiana in a single parent household, she has no recollection of her father nor did her mother ever mention his name. Her mother had a gambling problem, Tanya remembered her mother once gambling her brand new silver necklace her grandmother bought for her as a gift. At 17 Tanya went to live with her grandmother and refused to speak to her mother again. Mrs. Bell (Tanya’s grandmother) was on a fixed income and taking care of Tanya only added stress to the situation. “I couldn’t be a burden

As time flew by, my mother has gotten weaker, and my father fell ill. She suffered frequent back pain, and her feet covered in calluses from working. My father stopped working and rested at home due to his conditions. Over time, his conditions were worsening, and he was always tired. His face was always pale, and he had trouble walking for too long. Soon my interest became a serious matter. I would massage him every morning before going to school so that I can help him ease his pain and relax his muscles. Slowly improving and learning new information like identifying inflammation, pinpointing nerves and relieving pain. However, when my father passed away, I blamed myself for not being

I’m sitting in the passenger seat, parked in front of my home, staring straight out the front window at my house and feeling an antagonizing need to be inside of it in my room curled up in my bed. My mom is speaking next to me, but, I haven’t heard anything since, she said, “I have cancer and so does your grandpa,” meaning two out of the four people I hold dearest could be leaving me, permanently. Later on I piece together the details my mom was telling me in the car, she has ovarian cancer and will have to have a full hysterectomy, assuming it has not spread, and grandpa has stage 4 pancreatic cancer; no hope of treatment or surgery for him. At sixteen years old I stop relying on my mother and older brother for anything, I take to being the

She offered to take us to Stanford Hospital and wait for my mom’s surgery to finish. When we arrived at the hospital the concierge told us her surgery would take two to four more hours. I kept praying while waiting for the surgery to finish. Hours later the Doctor came out with the news, he stated “Froda lost a massive amount of blood, she will need a lot of rest, but she is in a stable condition”. Hearing those words gave me a bit of relief, but I was still emotionally devastated. Days later she woke up. Her face was pale as a ghost and had tubes going around her body. I was in shock and times couldn’t take the pain. I kept asking: “Mom do you know who I am?”. She would nod her head slowly.When she spoke, every word that came out was mumbly. I nor can anyone understand her, but I was happy that she was

I wake up in the hospital a few hours later. My stomach was pumped and I was left with two minor scars across my abdomen, third over dose I've survived. My father has sent his attorney Stewart, I think, he revels in the fact that my father values him more than me. He gives me the same lecture my father always does. Though he fails to bring the same level of grandiose my father does. I barely listen as I see a story of a local college girl going

At the end of a busy day, my father calls and says that my mother is very sick. She had been in the hospital for intravenous fluids. I could tell by his tone of voice that something was gravely wrong. I rushed to the hospital to find my mother barely able to breathe. Her nurse was racing to control her breathing while giving her a diuretic. My mother is a very small person and the nurse had ascertained the fact that she was given too much fluid. She was in fluid overload. Her nurse had just saved my mother’s life. All the while, he was able to comfort my father and reassure me. He

Cory seemed quiet and my parents looked at me with great pain in their eyes with their failed attempt to hide her diagnosed disease from me, severe cellular leukemia. My parents started leaving me at my grandma's house often which was a nice experience, but still leaves a five year old kid wondering why. Parents were gone for hours and I didn’t know what was happening. I was asking multiple questions like,”Hey Cory what’s wrong,” or “Mother why do y’all leave me at my grandma’s a lot?” Of course, no answer for any of them.

It was a warm, normal Sunday afternoon in the summer month of August. My mom had taken me to my choreography class for dance, and my dad and brothers went on their usual four wheeler ride down to the creek with family and friends. Normally after my class, my mom would would be there ten minutes early to pick me up. However, my class ended and she was not there. I immediately knew something was wrong when my friend’s mom pulled me outside the studio. She then told me that my dad had been in an accident and was flown directly to the hospital in St. Louis. Instantly, I began to cry as I only thought of the worst possible outcomes, but my caring dance teacher came outside and comforted me as we left for the St. Louis hospital. The entire way there, my friend’s mom consolidated me by assuring me that my dad was tough and was going to be alright.