Cancer first touched me at a very young age, and it has impacted my life significantly ever since. I’ve never personally had it, but I’ve watched so many loved ones suffer because of it.
My earliest memories include some of my Grandmother. I remember her relaxed in a La-Z-boy chair, with relatives chastising her for chewing her pills. I also remember being at a restaurant and something happening causing firemen and an ambulance to come. Unfortunately, that something happened to my Grandmother. Also unfortunately, those are the only memories I have of her, as she died when I was three, from lung cancer. This was particularly shocking since no one in my family smokes, particularly not her. Pictures are the only reason I know what she looked like. I’ve been to too many funerals to count throughout my life, and they’ve all blended together, so I don’t specifically remember hers. It was the beginning of my long relationship with the disease that began taking my loved ones from me.
I have some more memories of my Grandfather, whom I affectionately called Pop-pop. I remember how he always drank dry milk, and how we’d go for walks and look at the stars. I especially remember showing him a rock I thought was particularly special that I found from his rock pile. He was in the hospital, and he jokingly accused me of theft, sharing smiles and love with me even in his last few days. We had gone to visit him, to say goodbye, and we were only home for a few days before we had to return for his funeral. I remember being angry for having missed a field trip, thinking that he could have waited just a few days before passing on. As a kindergartener, I did not completely understand the significance of his funeral, and I no longer feel resentment for missing the trip.
When I was in 6th grade, the mother of one of my closest friends was diagnosed with breast cancer. That was the first year I attended Relay for Life, and when cancer became extremely personal. I watched her lose her hair and get wigs, so I started donating my hair, dealing with bad haircuts while constantly reminding myself that it would be worse to not have hair at all. Andrea was someone that I knew was always there for me, and she was a great role model—kind to everyone, very loving and forgiving. I knew she always cared about me and what I had to say, even when I was young. She always believed in me, even if I didn’t believe in myself. Instead of dwelling in her pain and struggles she took time to care about the inconsequential things that I thought were a big deal at the time. I hope, pray, and wish that one day I can be half the person she was. We all thought she was recovering, but freshman year when she went to the doctor, hoping to hear she was in remission, we learned there was a tumor in her brain. She passed away in January this year, after a long struggle and a brave fight.
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| My Aunt, with the tallest stick on the left with family |
While I was coming to terms with Andrea’s struggle, my great aunt died. While she did not die from cancer, I feel this is a good place to begin the story of another of my close friends’ mother, who, incidentally is also my Aunt and my mother’s only sister. She planned the funeral for my great Aunt, and was sick at the funeral, with what everyone believed to be pneumonia. We learned a month later that she had been misdiagnosed; she actually had the same incurable lung cancer from which my grandmother had passed away. A month later, it was her funeral that I was attending, the closest to home of the seven funerals that I attended my seventh grade year. She died suddenly, with no chance for goodbyes. She was a constant presence throughout my childhood; watching me while my parents worked and while they travelled, as well as every time we visited, which was often because of how close she and my mother were and how close my cousin and I am. She was also very caring and kind, sacrificing a lot for the sake of her family, and I feel I never appreciated her fully until she was gone.
While these deaths were difficult for me, it has been particularly painful to watch my family and friends deal with these losses. I’ve seen how relationships are strained from the pain of watching someone slip through your fingers and how much losing someone you truly love really tears you to shreds. Cancer has taken many of my loved ones from me, but it has given me many things in return. I have tended to take people for granted, assuming they’ll always be there for me. When they suddenly weren’t anymore, I realized how much I loved them and how much they’d done for me that I’ll never be able to repay. Because of this, I’ve taken care to make sure those who I care about know that I do, before I lose any opportunity to tell them. I value my family and friends so much—I never truly realized how much until several loved ones were torn from me. I also now have a passion for “saving” people from the fate of experiencing cancer themselves or watching a loved one go through that pain, while feeling utterly helpless. I’ve donated my hair and attended Relay, but I’ve really wanted to make a difference. Hence, my desire to make Swim for Hope a success. Please help me in my quest to find a cure by supporting this event, either through donation, participation, or simply keeping it in your thoughts and prayers.
-Ariana Hoyer
