I had always attended church. It was a family ritual. I enjoyed it, and looked forward to it each Sunday. But my faith dwindled the day I was playing baseball, one of the things I enjoyed most. I was pitcher for my team, and VIP of the year. I was pitching one of my superb pitches when the batter hit it sending it straight to my knee. I plummeted to the ground and later rouse to the sounds of a hospital feeling worse then ever. It was later explained to me that the blow I received to the knee shouldn't have broken it. But it DID break because I had Osteogenic Sarcoma, in other words, bone cancer.
There was a tumour growing under my knee that weakened it, resulting in it being broken. I had cancer... again. I cried when the doctor explained to me that it was a disease that usually hit teens and people in their early twenties. In another week I would be 13, this wasn't the kind of gift I wanted. I wasn't even a teenager yet. That gave me some relief. If this disease affects teens, then he must have made a mistake. I can't have cancer again.
But I was put on chemotherapy. It made me so sick. There were nights I spent sleeping by my toilet because I was too enervated to keep walking back and forth every ten minutes. At first I took chemotherapy through needles, but then I grew frightened of them, I got nausea just thinking about them. So a catheter, (plastic tube), was surgically inserted into my chest.
The worst news I received while in the hospital was that I would not be able to play any contact sports or swim for I might develop an infection that could worsen my state. This put me in a morbid mood. I never smiled or laughed. I just rested in my bed waiting for myself to recover. There were days I would sit in bed and stare out the window questioning my faith. I kept telling myself I believed, but deep down I knew I couldn't anymore. I felt so much pain, fear, and misery that believing in something that supposedly cured and brought peace was next to impossible. If God existed, why was I here in this state?
I now was not only struggling with cancer, but I was learning to cope with the fact that I would never see my parents together again. They had separated just after the first time cancer struck. I thought I had caused it with me being sick. Now I feared that this time worse would happen. It took me a long time to recover from those feelings.
The worst news came when my doctor told me there was a possibility I would have to have my leg amputated. He said that this was the only way to ensure I recover fully. But my leg was my life. Without my leg, my life was ruined.
It felt like my whole world was falling apart. Why me? Why out of everyone did I have to have Cancer? What had I done to deserve something like this? Did I do something to cause this? Maybe if I had eaten all my vegetables like my mother said, I would be stronger. Maybe if… the list was endless. All my hopes died. The cancer made me feel that I had nothing to look forward to. I wouldn't have cared if I had died.
Next page > It's a Miracle! > Page 1, 2, 3, 4, 5
