Cheered by Cancer

Avery

It’s June 13, the ripe start of summer. 

Two summers ago on this day, I was immersed in the whimsical and amazing world of Harry Potter at Universal Studios with my best friends, celebrating the fact that I was no longer a freaky freshman and that my greatest childhood fantasy was right before my eyes. 

Last summer on this day, my family and I got dugout seats at a Dodger’s game, and I stuffed myself with French fries and cheesy hotdogs; my sister and I spend the majority of the game relentlessly taking selfies with our food – I don’t really know why.

The common thread here is that my summers were eventful, action-packed, exciting! I was rewarded for my zealous efforts staying up past midnight studying and pursuit to achieve all As throughout the school year; I finally received a break. Except the thing is that now, the most eventful thing I’ve done so far is go to the beach with my friends for three hours – a big chunk of the time which I spent napping under my sweatshirt. Oh, I also went to LA for lunch. 

So far my days have been alternations between napping, exercising, hiking and cooking. On the first day, this was good. On the second day, it was still good, but a little more mundane than the day before. As the days passed, it seemed like a repetitive cycle. My friends asked me if I was free, but I said no, not until next weekend. But trust me, I had a good reason to reject these plans: I had to stay home because I was also spending time with my mom before her surgery. I was happy to help, but a tiny sliver in my heart was upset over the fact that my summer wasn’t like the summers before. 

Right before she came home from Los Robles Hospital on the day of her surgery, I propped up my camera on the stairs and precisely angled it to capture the doorframe and my parents walking through it; was I expecting a happy "welcome home video" like the ones on YouTube? I expected my typical cheerful mom accompanied by my dad holding some hospital bags, but I was partially shocked and partially saddened to open the door to my frail mom clutching onto my dad for physical support, too distressed to smile or shout. I shut off my camera and immediately helped her up the stairs while my dad hastily prepared her lunch; she hadn’t eaten at all that day. 

Overcome by bouts of nausea and aching pains, my mom was not her usual self. Only then did it really, really occur to me that she was on the journey of a breast cancer survivor (she was already a colon cancer survivor). In that moment, my mindset completely shifted. I definitely was supportive and loving before her surgery, but after the surgery, I feel as if I was ten times more. It was as if I didn’t care at all about past summers or doing things with friends. All I wanted to do was placate my mom’s pain and help her through the arduous road ahead of her. 

Therefore while my dad was at work and my sister was at SAT class, I tried to do what I could to help her, whether it be with my sweet potato and banana smoothies, rearranging her pillows and blanket, or tying her hair before she brushed her teeth. In my spare time I pushed in the kitchen table chairs, put away the silverware and drove my sister around. Every little thing my mom always did to keep our family functioning she could no longer do. 

So when we received a call and a pathology report this morning at 10, we were overwhelmed with joy and gratitude to God to hear that her cancer had not spread and that all traces of it were wholly eradicated from her body. 

Only through this trek did I realize how much work mothers do on a daily basis; without the mom at the front of the household, ours had begun to crumble. But now we are rejuvenated by amazing news and newfound optimism. In its own special way, this summer is better than the ones before. It has taught me more than anything else has in all of my past summers combined, so for that I am utterly thankful.