2008 Awards

Amanda’s Essay

Friendship in the Face of Illness: Thoughts of a Cancer Cabinet

I’m a broken person.  I am a vessel.  I am a vessel which harbors this cancer.  I am a cancer cabinet.  Everyone who looks at me sees the cancer inside.

Everyone seems sympathetic now.  Kacie never used to talk to me.  Why is she interested in calling me now?  I hate that.  I wish I didn’t have to hear, “I’m praying for you.”  I’m not Christian.  Even if I were, I hate that mournful, sympathetic tone of voice.  I want to be a person again!  I’m more than just a cancer cabinet!  Treat me like a person!

My boyfriend of one and a half years broke up with me.  It was too much for him to handle.  I understand that.  He’s only fourteen.  It’s not fair for him to sacrifice his last middle school year on a girl who could possibly die tomorrow.  I understand, but I wish it didn’t have to happen this way.  Why couldn’t we have broken up because he stood me up or forgot to call?  Why couldn’t we have been normal?  Justin flew out of the cabinet without a backward glance.

Ethan talked to me as in that cooing voice that even two-year-olds get tired of hearing.  Then Karl told me I look like death.  He came to visit me, and gave me a mix CD he made.  Am I going to die?  Karl can stay in the cabinet.  Ethan has to go.

I went to my eighth grade formal.  I hate being bald.  I wore a wig, but still.  In my pictures, I’ll know.  I never want to look at these pictures again.  My date only went with me because he felt sorry for me.  He didn’t care to dance with me but twice.  The rest of the night he was Katelyn’s.  They can both leave the cabinet for all I care.

I feel like I haven’t eaten in weeks.  I throw up all the time now.  I can feel my bones everywhere.  I can feel my organs pushing up against my skin.  I can feel the line from my broviak when I sleep.  I can feel it stretching and straining, and it scares me.  What if I pull on it in my sleep?  What if I shut down my own heart; pull it out through my chest?  Would it be better than suffering through chemo, with no hair, and no real friends to speak of?  Is that all going to stay in the cabinet?

I hate these damn steroids.  I’ll never take another one again.  I feel bloated, achy, and sick all over.  My skin is starting to turn brown and patchy in places.  I’m getting hungrier and sicker all at once.

Tabitha stayed the night.  It was the first time anyone dared stay with me since I got sick. I hate the leg cramps I get at night.  I woke up with leg cramps.  I had to get down to the floor and crawl to my dad’s room.  I had to get him up.  I just kept crying and the pain did not subside. I couldn’t think. It wasn’t until Tabitha got out of bed that I was even aware she was still there.  She stayed in the cabinet by choice.

My dad took me to an aquarium.  I held a sea star.  I wasn’t supposed to.  I washed my hands well.  I’m not allowed to eat fresh fruits or vegetables, much less hold a live creature in my hands.  Can that star fish reside inside my cabinet?

Why can’t I make other people understand that I am human?  I am a person!  I can hold a sea star just as they can!  Why did my relationships become so synthetic?  My friends aren’t really my friends.  They’re my friends because they feel obligated to be my friends.  Not one of them truly cares.  If I ever hear the sentence, “I’m praying for you,” ever again, I swear I’m going to scream!  That thought should remain outside my cabinet.

Maybe though, they do love me.  Maybe they do care.  Maybe some people are genuinely praying because they love me, and they really do want me to get better.   Maybe I do have good, solid relationships with my friends.  Maybe I am loved.  Maybe I can love them too.  Maybe I’m not broken.  Maybe I won’t be a cancer cabinet forever.

I fell before school.  My wig fell off.  Some kids outside were laughing, but Kristin picked me up.  Tyler came over to shield what was happening.  I wanted to leave and go home.  I got back in my mom’s car.  Kristin got in too.  “Don’t go home.”

My parents threw me a birthday party.  It was a surprise and everyone came, including several of my teachers.  My fourth grade teacher even played a song for me on my piano.  Katie sang karaoke with me, even though she hates to sing.  I hope they’ll stay in the cabinet.

I swam in the ocean.  It was nighttime.  Lacy, Jenna, and I danced in the waves in our underwear.  They didn’t mind my bald head.

I took pictures today.  I like to take everything in more now.  I like to sit and think.  I like to be alone and listen.  I like to listen to the sounds of the day, or just retreat to my room and listen to music.  I like to be alone.  I like it inside my cabinet.  While I was alone today, I had this thought:

Not one solitary relationship I had before has remained unchanged since I got sick.  I am a cancer cabinet.  I have to open my doors.  I let some friends out and I keep some friends in.  I keep my cabinet clean.

About Amanda

Amanda’s body is still fragile from the chemotherapy that she completed in 2006 – she can’t run hard, lift weights, or put her body under great stress – yet despite these limitations she has been extremely active in every sense of the word.

Amanda has a great love for water sports, singing, and acting. Swimming is one of the activities her body can still handle, and before being diagnosed she had planned to swim for her high school team. She also kayaks, canoes and sails her own small boat. Outside of water sports, Amanda is an active performer; she has participated in community theater and played piano, and she has sung for the residents of a local retirement home.

In fact, one of Amanda’s largest commitments is her involvement in a wide variety of civil organizations. On the local level she has helped her school build a ceramic dolphin for the local elementary school and helped clean up the beaches of a neighboring town. In the summer of 2007 she served as a counselor for Camp Trinity, a camp for people who are mentally or physically disabled, where she worked with an elderly man with autism. For her senior project in high school, Amanda served as a community organizer for the Barack Obama for President campaign, and she remains active in politics to this day.

As she transitions from high school to college (she will be starting at East Carolina University in Greenville, N.C. this fall), Amanda continues to work with two international organizations: Kiva.org, and the Save Darfur Coalition. Amanda has donated her time and money to Kiva.org, which allows donors to lend small sums to entrepreneurs in third world countries to help them start a business, and during high school helped to promote it to her school’s international studies class. As a supporter of the Save Darfur Coalition, she has also signed numerous petitions and worked as an advocate at the local level to spread awareness of the genocide occurring there.

At college Amanda hopes to continue her work interest in international justice by studying political science and international studies. She eventually hopes to join the Peace Corps or do other work related to helping people around the world.

“I don’t really feel like a national citizen, I feel like an international citizen,” she said.

Amanda described the essay she submitted to the Andre Sobel Award contest as “intensely personal,” a reflection of her strongest emotions.

Her fight against cancer has made her a more resilient person, Amanda said. As her family struggles with another health crisis – her mother was recently diagnosed with ovarian cancer – Amanda has drawn on that bravery to provide her with the encouragement she needs.