Prelude

It’s 3 a.m. on a Wednesday morning. I’m slouched very uncomfortably up against a wall, sitting in one of those round, wheelie doctor chairs. Every time I close my eyes I get horrible images in my head of what is happening. I look over at my mother sleeping in the hospital bed with wires and tubes and an annoying machine that beeps every five minutes. I haven’t admitted it yet to her but man, am I scared. The doctors have run so many tests, how many more can they run? They seem to have ruled out every diagnosis possible, except the really scary ones, which makes me even more terrified of what the doctor will say next. I still can’t believe that this is happening. She doesn’t need this, I don’t need this. What the heck is going on?

Just a couple of hours ago I was beginning to move home from school. I was packing, loading the car, and studying for finals. Mom just said she had stomach pains but seriously, it can’t be so bad. Why does she have to go through all this? I want answers, I need answers. There is a soft rap on the door, the doctor walks slowly into the dark room and turns on the light, revealing a somber expression on his tired face. I hear my mom stirring as the light wakes her but I cannot take my eyes off the doctor’s face. I can feel the tension and anxiety heighten in the small room.

It's one of those moments when the stomach clenches, the body goes rigid, goose bumps form on the skin, and the heart skips a beat. The eyes immediately glaze over and fall into a sort of trance while the brain goes fuzzy. The doctor then confirmed one of my worst fears; cancer. What a small word for so many emotions and questions to go along with it. Fear, anger, sadness, anxiety, confusion. What now?

After my mom was diagnosed with Stage III colon cancer I heard so many medical terms and conditions that I, like so many others in my position, became so overwhelmed with it all. And honestly, I was scared spit less. Every term was scarier then the last and they were thrown around like they had no meaning. To a doctor or a nurse, the terms described in this book are common however I am not a doctor, and the terms were not common. Each mention of ‘life-prolonging’, ‘chemotherapy’, and ‘remission’ stung me like a thousand bees. My head became numb to the words so that the pain could become bearable. But still, I had no idea how to react to the terms, and the pain. So that is why I wrote this book, for the people out there that are going through all this and need some help. From a real person who won’t use medical terms and will give it to you straight.

This book lays out the reasons why some cancer terms are scary and hard to deal with and also goes over some ways of how to deal with them. I know how hard the cancer journey is and how tough of a person you have to be to make it through in one piece. So here we go, let’s break down the scary words, face them head on and get through this.

Bring it, cancer.