KRISTIN'S PERSONAL NARRATIVE

Kristin Katich
Professor Harrison
ENGL 150
29 June 2009
The Stranger in the Mirror

It seemed like every classroom I had been in as a child, all the teachers would have the same inspirational posters hung on the walls. Like the one with the kitten hanging in the tree that says, "Hang in there!" Or the one with the cute little puppy that says, "Attitude is everything!" I had never given these posters much thought, except that they were something to look at while day dreaming during class. Eventually they weeded themselves into my mind, and little did I know they would have a huge impact on my life.
It was raining that day, and I had been feeling unusually tired. My mom had let me stay home from school so I could rest, but just as a precaution we went to the doctor. He assumed that I had mono and asked me to go get some blood work done. I did not think anything of what the results would be as I laid there. My mom announced that she would be leaving for an hour or two to go on an errand with my dad. I was anticipating that tomorrow would just be another nothing-out-of-the-ordinary day, so why not enjoy my time off. I sat peacefully in bed, listening to the quiet pitter patter of the rain against the window pane until I drifted into a light sleep. A knock on my bedroom door ended my mid-morning nap. My mom and dad seemed hesitant as they came in and sat on my bed. "Hey baby girl, how are you feeling?" they asked. I yawned and told them of my snooze-fest. My dad then pulled me into a tight embrace, and my mother started to cry.
"We were at the doctors office," my dad explained. "You don't have mono."
Tears rolled down his cheeks. Mom was under the covers with me now with her head on my shoulder. "You have leukemia."
My heart stopped beating and the world at that moment stood still. Those kinds of things only happen to people in soap operas or to distant relatives you never see. Not a normal teenage girl. Not to me. People with cancer get really sick and cannot go to school. People with cancer lose their hair and get really skinny, and some people that get diagnosed with it even die.
The only thing I could say was, "I don't want to have cancer."
Life was a whirlwind after that day. I was swept off into an unknown territory and given a one way ticket to chaos. Those first few months in the hospital seemed like an eternity. I spent them spiraling into a state of denial, living them in a haze. The doctors would come into my room and rattle off about medicines to my parents, but I would not listen. The nurses would take my temperature; I could care less what it was. Something like this was hard to wrap one's mind around. I could not come face to face with what was happening, and I desperately wanted it to be an impossible nightmare that I would just wake up from. Food soon lost its appeal and I became thin and weak. Getting out of bed would leave mounds of my long dark hair behind. I could run my fingers over my scalp and end up with handfuls of my beloved locks that brought tears to my eyes.
I stood in front of the mirror one morning, unable to recognize the stranger staring back at me. She had a patchy bald head and bony cheeks. Tear tracks marked their way from her red, rounded eyes. The person looking back at me had lost it. I looked pitiful. Disgusted with what I had become, I then decided this could go on no longer. Continuing to be that stranger in the mirror would get me nowhere. I fell to my knees and prayed. I prayed to the Lord for help. Immediately, I received strength I did not know I had. I was blessed with comfort, and also got the sense that I should be patient, for all have trials to bear, which is never an easy task.
Lance Armstrong's motto is to "Live Strong." Give me a break, that is almost impossible to do when you have been hit by the chemo bus. I chose the opposite of my current state. I chose "Live Happy." That motto gave me a sense of hope. Instead of focusing on the fact that my hair was falling out, I looked forward to the day it would grow back and even wore a blonde wig. Honestly, blondes do not have more fun. My doctors were astonished at how well I was responding to treatment. The nursing staff announced that I was the healthiest cancer kid on the floor of the hospital one day. Never before had I appreciated something so simple as being able to brush my teeth without getting tired. By opening my mind and my heart I was able to feel the love others were giving me to help me through this. This gave me a chance to look forward to my future, instead of living in the moment. Because, right then the moment really stunk.
My life was never the same; I saw it in a new light. Now things seem brighter, times seem easier, even though I have never had a normal day since. But, who would want to be normal anyway? Yes, cancer takes and takes. One thing it could not take was my attitude. I never gave up. I am a cancer babe, and I make it look good.