2003 Awards

Amanda Mosier

The objects surrounding me only brought up memories of a former well-lived childhood that would soon turn into a battle with one of the most deadly diseases known to man. Thinking of everything I had loved and cherished so dearly, my eyes scanned upon a stuffed, white monkey who was named Mischief. I had designated him as my co- partner to loyally keep me company during surgery; this decision was based on Mischeif’s loving nature and his interests in traveling to different regions of the United States since his arrival from Tokyo two years prior to my “incident”. Mischief looked at me with his tiny beaded eyes immediately before he was placed in the suitcase, along with other clothes and supplies, such as a bottle of blessed water Grandmother said would help me heal during the rough road of testing experiences in the upcoming weeks. As I looked up, my eyes met those of my young, black kitten lounging on my bed. He could feel my fear and sympathetically sputtered a meow to say that everything would be all right and he would see me in a week or two. I hugged his soft littlebody and wanted to trade places with him.

“Amanda, a letter has come for you. Are you ready to leave yet?” Mom said softly from the other side of the door.

Without response, I briskly ripped open the letter

Dear my turtle-loving granddaughter,

Hello there. I went in for my leukemia checkup again today, and everything went as usual until a new nurse walked in to draw blood from my severely bruised right arm. I found it unusual that she crept in through the back entrance to the room carrying a needle so large that the only thing coming close to its size would be the entire state of Texas. I told the rather horrific nurse that such a needle would surely be of no use to my tiny, withered veins, but she just cocked her head back and cackled in response to my proposition. She slowly approached the blood-drawing chair I was sitting in and whipped out a roll of medical tape. She then ran up to me and tied me down in the chair, restraining my arms, legs, torso, and my mouth. I struggled to set myself free; I continually attempted to kick her while she tied up my arms. My attempts were no use and caused the nurse to become even more conniving. At this instance, I believed that there was no way to escape. The nurse blew the red whistle hung around her neck three times as if to signal for backup. Looking around the chair for something to defend myself with, I could not even find a plastic knife. Suddenly, the other three doors in the room slowly squeaked ajar, and a group of the most grotesque monsters you would ever imagine came wobbling out toward the chair in which I was strapped to. The monster looked blood hungry, and I could see their nametags: Diseasio, Cancerio, and Thyroidio. They had come to take my life, so I once again frantically tried to break through the tape. They inched in closer and closer, and with each wobbly step they took, I could smell the rotting stench of death. Wherever they stepped they left piles of fleshy waste. There was no hope for survival; the monsters had finally surrounded me. Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye I saw a skinny, little girl break through the door to the left of me. The light surrounding her was so intense that I could only distinguish her shadowy figure. Once she stepped out of the halo of light emitting from the doorway, I realized that it was you, Amanda. You ran into the room and stabbed, jabbed, punched, and kicked those monsters to a pulp; the nurse ran screaming out of the room in fear of experiencing your wrath of good intent. You then ran up to me and ripped the tape off my body and set me free. This, of course, is a dream I had while in the waiting room of the hospital, but I believe that this dream foretells your future. You successfully fought your personal battle with cancer. You beat your illness and became a hero with all of the strong will and beautiful power that embodies your soul. By surviving and overcoming cancer, you will be a hero to millions of others who are experiencing the wrath of the same disease as you. Show the other children who are battling cancer that they can survive too. Be strong and never doubt that you will overcome this setback and go on to live your life as an artist. Believe I yourself, for you are indeed a special young lady.

Love,

Grandpa Lee

P.S. When all this mess has passed over, I want you to go fishing with me. I heard about a lake that has an abundance of large mouth bass.
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Quinn Scarvey

Dear Friend,

I recently was told that you were diagnosed with a brain tumor. You are probably feeling tired, sick, sad and scared. I am very sorry that you have to go through this experience. I understand what you are going through.

I have been battling a brain tumor for over a year now. Having this experience has taught me many things, but one thing I have learned a great deal about is friendship. I now know that I have wonderful friends that would stay by my side and still be my friend through anything, even when I can’t remember things very well or my head is shaved. My friends and I may even have grown closer during the time of my illness. Even my friends’ friends that I don’t even know have reached out to me.

When I was in the hospital, a lot of my friends came to visit me, even though the hospital was a couple of hours away. My friends gave me things that they knew I would really enjoy. One of my friend’s mothers brought me a ten-pound cheesecake because she knew it was one of my favorite desserts. Every time I would open the refrigerator, I would ask, “Who’s that cheesecake from?” because I couldn’t remember. So finally, my dad put a note on the box that said, “Brought by Michele Ward.” I kept wanting to know who it was from because it was important to me to know who had come to see me and who had brought what. Things that friends do for one another are worth remembering.

One time I was eating lunch in the cafeteria with some people at school. After I finished eating my food, several other people and I got up to take our trays up and throw them away. I was the first one back to the table, so I sat down. A few moments later, the other girls came back. My best friend Carleigh came up to me and said, “You were sitting on the other side of the table, Quinn!” I couldn’t even describe to you how foolish I felt at that time. My short-term memory was that bad! They had a little laugh out of it, but I know they understood that after my surgery I had a harder time remembering things like that. Until my memory problems improved, they helped me remember things.

Another thing I really adore about my friends is that they don’t treat me like I’m sick. They will help me out if I need it, but they don’t give me any pity. Some people will just treat me like I can’t do anything! Even if I know that I’m allowed to play games or whatever, they will treat me like a China doll! When people do that, it makes me angry.

This year, I love my teacher–Mrs. Joyce Davis and I consider her a good friend of mine. I had Mrs. Davis in third grade, but she moved up to fifth when one of the old teachers left. Before she agreed to move to fifth grade, she told the principal that the only way she would go to fifth grade is if I were in her class. I think she really cared about me and wanted to help me out in any way she could. Some years ago, Mrs. Davis was in a bad accident. She has been through a lot and I think that might help her be so sensitive towards others’ feelings. She would always notice when I was feeling bad or upset. Mrs. Davis is very special to me and to many other people. I have also been through a lot and I think I try to follow her example of noticing when other people feel bad and trying to help them.

I also got a very special gift from a friend. There is an eye doctor I know in town who tested my vision after my first surgery. His name is Doctor Ozzie Reynolds. One day not too long ago, Dr. Reynolds sent me a poem. Inside the folded piece of paper was a one hundred-dollar bill. There was a note on the poem that said if I could memorize the poem, I could keep the money. The poem is called “If” by Rudyard Kipling and I’ve been learning some each night. He gave me the poem because it was very special to him and he wanted to share it to me. Now, the poem is special to me too.

In the past year I’ve learned many things. I’ve learned about cancer and about tumors and about different kinds of doctors and about how you can’t get a good meal or a good night’s sleep in a hospital. But the most important thing I’ve learned is how blessed I am to have such good friends who love and care about me.

Stay strong and keep thinking good thoughts.

Your friend,

Quinn Scarvey
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Stanzy Childs

Dear James,

This is something I’ve wanted to share with you for a while because you’re such a good friend to me. I want you to understand what I’ve learned about friendship over the past 3 years. I’ve learned that openness makes up true friendship: openness to see a person for whom they are, openness to share my self with other people, and openness to accept the help of friends.

Having cancer also gave me a new perspective on people. It made me realize that appearances aren’t everything. I didn’t look or feel like myself a lot of the time I was on treatment and it wasn’t my fault. There was a reason. This made me realize that other people have reasons too. You never know who might be going through a hard time unless you look past their appearance and how they act.

This concept was really hit home a few months ago. There was a girl that I met at a camp for cancer patients and with whom I had formed a close relationship. I found out a few months before the fact that her brain tumor was terminal. I tried to spend time with her but she lived far away and her brain was being eaten away by the cancer. She died a few months later. I don’t need to tell you how hard this was for me. I went to her funeral and it was a life changing experiences. I saw her body but Sara wasn’t there. I realized that we’re just walking around in these bodies that are going to die. I asked myself, “How much effort am I putting into improving my personality, vs. how much I am putting into the part of me that’s going to be worm food eventually?” It also made me think about investing more in relationships. I realized that I need not be frivolous with relationships. I only have a short window of time to get to know you and I want each moment to count. I want no regrets.

I have also learned to open myself to other people. In high school I made friends easily because I was the one reaching out to people. But I was so focused on being other people’s friend I didn’t share myself with them. I know about them but they didn’t know about me. After a while I realized it wasn’t enough to just understand them and be their friend. There was something missing. I wanted to be understood and cared for too. So I had to learn to be honest and open my self to other people which was something I hadn’t done much in the past. You’ve helped me do this and I thank you from the bottom of my heart for that.

I learned that true friendship has to go both ways to create that intimacy one has with a close friend. I also learned the importance of friendship. When I was diagnosed I was amazed to see how my community lifted my family up in prayers and supported us through hard times. I really found out how many people cared for me and my family. It was hard at first for me to accept that help because I was independent and used to doing things myself. I really had to let go of my pride and allow my self to accept love from people. I think this is something truly important in life. Friends helped sustain me through treatment. And I’m learning that friends can help sustain me through the rest of my life.

This comes down to my very life philosophy. My relationships help create meaning for my life. What else do I have but relationships? What really matters in my live? It’s not going to matter what I did, what rewards I got, how popular I was, or how many possessions I had. When someone I love dies all I have left is the relationship I had with them. I’ve learned that each person needs friendship and intimacy with others. This is my priority in life: to glorify the Lord my God, to take each day that I have as a gift, and to build relationships with the time that I have.

I hope you learned some about me and understand why I want you to be more open with me.

Friends forever,
Stanzy
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Rebecca Ryan

To My New Friend,

I just read your post on the Lymphoma Support group website, and I can’t begin to describe how much what you wrote affected me. You have been newly diagnosed, and you mention feeling scared, angry, and confused. You asked if anyone could share some advice with you, if anyone could relate to what you are experiencing. I understand how you feel because I was diagnosed with cancer three years ago, but after undergoing chemotherapy and radiation therapy, my disease was in remission. You said that this is the hardest thing you have ever gone through-I felt the same way. Unfortunately for me, a little less then a year ago I relapsed. When my doctor told me about the new course of chemo, and ultimately the stem cell transplant that I would have to receive, I was devastated. My worst nightmare had become a reality.

Feelings that had subsided since my original diagnosis began to resurface- feelings you mentioned in your post. It was hard for me to tell my friends and family that I was sick again. I dreaded the routine; putting on the fake smile and reciting the scripted speech in which I assured the person across from me that everything would be fine, when the truth was I had no idea if it would be. Ironically, my attempts to abate the nervousness of everyone around me only seemed to magnify my own doubts. Feeling completely uncomfortable in my own body was something I sort of learned to accept, but the anxiety of not knowing how a person would react once I told them I had cancer never got any easier. I received mixed reactions. While some promised that they would be with me throughout the fight, there were those who were too uncomfortable to even hug or touch me.

I am not writing to you as a cancer patient or survivor. I am not writing to you because I feel sorry for you or want to teach you what you should or shouldn’t feel. I am writing to you with no intention of ever hearing from you or meeting you. I am writing to you because my own illness has taught me that friendship, in whatever form it exists, is limitless. It is more infectious than any disease and stronger than any medicine. I am not writing to you as a stranger, but as someone who might be able to relate to what you’re feeling. I am writing to you because you feel alone and I want you to know that you’re not. I am writing to you as a friend.

To say it has been easy for me to get to this day would be untrue. I wish I could tell you that winning the war makes the battles and their memories any less painful, but it doesn’t. The luxury of seeing the world through rose tinted glasses was stolen from me and I have seen and experienced things that will haunt me forever. Battling, and now beating cancer has been a huge challenge, but with challenge comes experience and knowledge, and this illness is no exception. I didn’t choose to get sick, and neither did you, but I am choosing to take whatever I can from this disease- it has certainly taken enough from me.

Being isolated from the world, with premonitions of death constantly reminding me of my own mortality, my view of life changed. A world I was once so comfortable being a part of, so sure of where I had been and where I was going, ceased to exist. I felt like a prisoner, uncomfortable in my own skin, uncertain of where tomorrow might lead me. But amidst this confusion, no matter how hopeless I felt, when inconsistency was everywhere, I learned I could always rely on friendship.

I found friendship in places I never thought to look before I was sick. I found it in the smile of my nurse, in the kindness of the hospital librarian who sent books to my room when I was unable to get out of bed. I found a friend in the laughter of a man who snuck me extra jello every night because it was the only thing I could bear to eat, even though the limit was one per order. I found friendship in people I will never know, people who donated blood and saved my life. I found a friend in the night nurse who complemented my bandana, instead of avoiding the hair conversation like most people did. I found a friend in a little boy who smiled at me on the elevator, and made me forget for one moment that I felt like a monster. I found friends in family members I hadn’t seen in months, but who traveled to New York to be with my family in anyway they could. I found friendship in people I never appreciated before- people who filled in the voids left by those who let me down.

Although my peers attended classes at expensive universities, I am the one who has learned the priceless lessons. The people who were too scared to stand by me, too preoccupied with their own insecurities to understand how much I needed them, have taught me as much as those who helped me push through and kept me standing when I was ready to collapse. I learned to let go of expectations that were weighing me down, and instead began to welcome surprises. I stopped letting the weaknesses of others hurt me, and embraced the strength in the wonderful people who stood by my side. When I felt scared and cowardly, my friends taught me that courage is not the lack of fear, but fighting in spite of it. When I was broken and tired, they carried me until I was able to soar on my own. My illness has taught me that friendship is about filling someone with hope when they are flooded with despair. A friend steps up when the world steps back, and is a pillar of strength when everything else seems to crumble. A friend is someone who reaches for your hand, but touches your heart and feels your pain, and that is why I am sharing all of this with you.

Cancer is a thief that steals and destroys. It is also a tool that can illuminate and strengthen your respect for life. We have been chosen to endure this test, but people in our lives share the struggle with us. These people, these friends, have given me the ability to see cancer for what it is- a hindrance, a mere obstacle to overcome, not an inevitable fate to succumb to. When I was first diagnosed I questioned God, and everything I believed in. I couldn’t understand why I was being punished and what I had done to deserve feeling so alienated. As I got further into my treatment though, I realized that friends are God’s way of making everything a little bit easier. No matter how far off course you are thrown, friends are gifts that help cushion your fall.

I used to see cancer as a death sentence, but now I understand that for me it has actually been a rebirth. I have been given a second chance at life, and I am using what I have learned and sharing it whenever I can. I know now that I am not invincible, that bad things happen to good people, that there are things in this life I will never understand. More importantly, my illness has taught me that although my body may be weakened or even destroyed by cancer, true friendships never have to be.

I hope this letter inspires you to appreciate the friends you have, to forgive the people who have disappointed you, and to never let the pain of your disease outshine the happiness you find in the people around you- this is my advice to you. Your disease will go into remission, but if you let cancer control your ability to love and be loved, you will always be a cancer victim. I feel blessed to be one of the lucky ones who can call themselves a survivor, and I attribute so much of my triumph to the people I have encountered throughout my journey. I wanted to share my story with you, to lift your spirits if just for one moment, to let you know that I understand what you are going through and what a hard fight this is. I wanted to share with you the lessons my illness has taught me, and give you the most precious gift of all, the gift of friendship. Cancer has shown me what it’s like to need a friend, and I hope I have shown you what it’s like to have one.

I wish you peace, strength, and an abundance of friends to walk by your side.

Your Friend,
Rebecca Ryan
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