Personal Narrative: My Life With Voluntary Cancer

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Growing up, you do not usually care much for cancer patients and take into consideration what they are enduring to fight to stay alive. Many people, including me, were not too worried cancer affecting the lives of their families they were raised in. I was raised by two loving, caring, and strict parents with two siblings. We often traveled to the bay and the mountains. I enjoyed the company of my family while thinking nothing could go wrong in it. That all changed on December thirtieth in the year two-thousand ten. My dad awoke from his sleep and began throwing up blood. Frightened, we took him to San Joaquin Valley Hospital near our home in Bakersfield, California. After a four day stay, never leaving my dad’s side, the doctors came up with …show more content…
He had an appointment the next day, that we did not take too seriously, in which would reveal information about his latest MRI. I was at gymnastics practice during that appointment, waiting to hear the verdict. Assuming the best, my sister picked me up frantically crying; I knew she would be the bearer of bad news. She broke the news of my dad having liver cancer; I had no idea how to take that information, assuming that it was a death sentence for my beloved dad. I then talked to my mom and dad later about the next step towards an attempt to save my dad life, if it was even possible. They explained that after receiving a round of chemotherapy to shrink the size of the cancerous tumor, we would have to fly approximately two-thousand miles to New Orleans, Louisiana for my dad to receive a liver from a deceased donor. Furthermore, they explained that it would not be a “simple walk in the park” because of many complications after the procedure. I did not allow myself to show any emotions to show that my family and I would get through this …show more content…
After the news of the transplant, I graduated junior high two weeks early and flew for the first time, with my sister by my side two-thousand miles away, from Los Angeles International Airport to Louis Armstrong National Airport. A four hour flight reunited my family together once again. Greeted by my mom and dad, we were also greeted by the unique well known hot humidity of Louisiana. A one month stay, while my dad recovered, we got to know the city of Mandeville, New Orleans, and Jefferson with the courtesy of four different rental cars that hit you with the strong, headache-giving smell and touch of leather, that I remember vividly, the moment you opened the door. Our shelter included a view of the pool, City of New Orleans, and the Mississippi River on the third story of Brent House Hotel. I also will never forget the unique seasoning that the hotel’s cafeteria addresses to almost every single meal they

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