Stage IV Thyroid Cancer: A Short Story Of Hazel Grace Lancaster
I had a comparable experience to this in the absence of my grandma after she fought a chronic illness for 12
Everybody in the family was super happy and proud of him and so was he. But unfortunately a couple years after the cancer came back, but this time in his lungs. He pushed through for a really long time until he couldn't do it, he just couldn't last any longer. Unfortunately, he passed away, the doctors couldn't do much to get rid of his lung cancer. Him having cancer not only once, but two times was obviously the biggest roadblock of his life.
When I was in third grade, I was diagnosed with a medical condition that required me to go to Children’s Hospital in Pittsburgh multiple times per month. It was boring, annoying, and sometimes painful. I never enjoyed going and that didn’t change as I got older. But when I just started going, I was very sick. Between the one hundred two-degree fever I had and the amount of blood they had to take out of me for tests, I felt miserable.
In a life changing year and a half, my mother went through radiation treatments and multiple surgeries. After her first surgery and a few weeks into radiation treatments my mother became gravely ill. She struggled to get out of bed and every day became a battle. When my brother and I could get away from school we would wait in the hospital with her. Her health
Years later I found out that my mother’s illness was breast cancer, and because it was left untreated, it unavoidably caused her death. Growing up in a single parent household after the death of
It was under the most delicate of circumstances, when I realized what I was born to do for the rest of my life. It was march 2007, my grandfather was suffering from pneumonia and due to his deteriorating condition he was hospitalized. I had flown in from Toronto to be by his side. Sitting anxiously by his bedside with tears in my eyes wondering if I could do anything to make my grandfather feel better, I watched doctors come and go , updating us on his blood reports, EKGs, chest x-rays, ABGs, and at the same time constantly counseling my concerned family members. As they explained what they were doing to bring my grandfather to the path of recovery, I watched in utter fascination.
I couldn’t move my legs. I couldn’t move my hands. My family took me to the hospital and from there I was admitted as patient. As a little girl I was always very optimistic. Becoming a patient meant no more school and no more homework.
Complications escalated when my father had a stress-induced heart attack, resulting in an unexpected trip to the emergency room. Following the heart attack, whenever I wasn’t at school or going to counseling it was my job to take of my father. I learned how to change bandages and to support someone not only weak physically, but also emotionally. During those few months my dad was my responsibility, and my sole purpose was to minimize the pain. Some days it was in the form of a hug, and other days it was in the form of preparing his medication.
A few months after the diagnosis, the disease was manageable and I was able to live my riveting 14-year-old life. Two years later, I had relapsed for the fourth time and stuck in a brightly-colored hospital room once again. The three weeks I spent there proved to be even more difficult than the initial struggle. Through my anxiety-ridden thoughts and the never-ending tubes and needles, I felt powerless and was unable to imagine myself seamlessly entering my junior year of high school.
and I don’t see remission in my future. I worry what the future holds and where I will be in 10 years. How will I take care of myself. Who will I have when my parents are no longer around? Taking life one day at a time is all I can do and that is scary in and of itself.
I have struggled since I was seven with growing pains and two ticking time bombs waiting to go off. I have struggled with people making fun of me, feeling like I’m not good enough because I’m not allowed to do everything. I received the injury when I was seven, I was diagnosed with an Aneurysm and an AVM( arteriovenous malformation). My aneurysm burst causing me to have a cerebral hemorrhage where I was on the edge of death. The doctors thought I would die on the life flight to the University of Iowa the final ditch effort to save my life.
I was only a freshman when I began to notice my mother was taking my grandma to doctor’s appointments repeatedly. I honestly thought it was because she was elderly. But never in a million years did I think my own grandma would be diagnosed with cancer. I was only 14 when I found out the news. At that age, when I heard of the word cancer, I automatically thought of the word death.
Participants noted the change in touch from their family and friends prior to diagnosis of their cancer. Some participants found comfort in the changes and some did not. Many participant’s noted a struggle between craving normalcy and familiarity from loved ones and still wanting to feel love and support. One participant reported not letting his mother touch him when he was gravely ill. Another participant noted that her family, particularly her mother and daughter, began to distance themselves from her after her diagnosis.
After hours of waiting in a cold hospital room you get the answer no parent should ever here. You are told that your child has cancer. They say that there isn 't much they can do, but they can try Chemotherapy. After months of intense chemotherapy and pain for your child….. He is incapable of taking the pain.
Literature is a mirror of society. It has thousands of threads which can weave the beautiful piece of art. Each thread has its own importance in the creative work. In the same way there are different types of narrative techniques for the narration of literature. Realism, in literature, is an approach that attempts to describe life without idealization or romantic subjectivity.
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