Cancer, as powerful and invincible as it may seem, is a mere fraction of a person’s life.
It’s easy to forget when one’s mind and body are so weak and vulnerable.
I write screenplays, short stories, and opinionated blogs and am a regular contributor to my school literary magazine, The Gluestick.
I have accumulated over 300 community service hours that includes work at homeless shelters, libraries, and special education youth camps.
When I see patients trapped in not only the hospital but also a moment in time by their diseases, I talk to them.
For six hours a day, three times a week, Ivana is surrounded by IV stands, empty walls, and busy nurses that quietly yet constantly remind her of her breast cancer.
In any case, these articles of clothing affect our being and are the unsung heroes of comfort.2) When I realized I cannot understand the world.
I recently debated at the Orange County Speech League Tournament, within the Parliamentary Division.
They covered the precious mahogany coffin with a brown amalgam of rocks, decomposed organisms, and weeds.
It was my turn to take the shovel, but I felt too ashamed to dutifully send her off when I had not properly said goodbye. I refused to let go of my grandmother, to accept a death I had not seen coming, to believe that an illness could not only interrupt, but steal a beloved life.