Her face is pale and tired, yet kind--not unlike my grandmother’s.
I need only to smile and say hello to see her brighten up as life returns to her face.
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.
However, when the end inevitably arrived, I wasn’t trying to comprehend what dying was; I was trying to understand how I had been able to abandon my sick grandmother in favor of playing with friends and watching TV.
Hurt that my parents had deceived me and resentful of my own oblivion, I committed myself to preventing such blindness from resurfacing.
When my parents finally revealed to me that my grandmother had been battling liver cancer, I was twelve and I was angry--mostly with myself.
They had wanted to protect me--only six years old at the time--from the complex and morose concept of death.
I want to be there as an oncologist to remind them to take a walk once in a while, to remember that there’s so much more to life than a disease.
While I physically treat their cancer, I want to lend patients emotional support and mental strength to escape the interruption and continue living.