Inspiring stories… (part 2)
I am continuing the reblog of Hilary’s cancer journey…
Monday (01.08.96)
The Morning
It was early Monday. My teachers, friends, and even my little brother were boarding buses and getting into cars to head into school. Our neighbors warmed up their cars before embarking on their chilly Monday-morning commute. The big news story from the weekend was a huge blizzard that paralyzed the East Coast from Washington to Boston. My big news story- cancer.
The Secret
Nothing seemed to have changed as everyone went about their normal routines. “I shouldn’t expect a change though- we haven’t told anyone.” Aside from my doctors, the AML diagnosis was a secret that only my Dad, my Mom, and I shared. My little brother knew that “Hil is sick,” but that was the extent of it. At some point, my parents would have to make The Call to school but for right now, it was a secret. To be honest, I’m not 100% sure why it was a secret but I didn’t challenge my parents. Eventually, I would learn that a cancer diagnosis is in some ways like winning the lottery. It’s so rare that no one ever expects their friends or family to ‘get picked.’ This ends up providing a certain window for the affected party to square away any logistics before letting the word spread (i.e. insurance policy, leave time, finances, etc).
The Drive
As we drove from my house to Children’s Hospital, I wondered how my friends would respond to my absence. “Oh, she must be sick today,” I figured they would say. Being sick though, was something I never did. In fact, I was ‘Miss Perfect Attendance’ every year (with the exception of the Jewish High Holidays). Not one sick-day and then… Leukemia.
“Will I still be able to play softball this summer? Will they let me take accelerated classes next year? Am I going to lose my hair?” Somehow it was the hair thing that hit me the hardest at first. Maybe it’s because I was 12 or maybe because a bald head is all too often a sign that someone is dying… “Dying? Am I dying? I feel sick but not dying sick.”
Luckily for me and unluckily for my Dad, it was a normal Monday in Buffalo and people were driving into the city to go to work. The other cars gave me an opportunity to suppress the scary thoughts and do a little daydreaming. Unfortunately, they did not make the drive any less stressful for my Dad. He had to prove his driving skills worthy yet again, but this time with the added challenge of dealing with angry Monday morning commuters. Fortunately, my Dad is an all-star and we arrived at the hospital ready to start a challenging 10-day battle in what would prove to be a much longer war.
Continue reading here: Runningbecausecancerstinks
