The Life She’d Never Have My head was pounding harder than my heart. My vision momentarily gone. I collapsed. Half an hour later I was home, hardly understanding how I got there. I was immobile, propping myself over the garbage, filling it up with everything inside me. Without my willpower, I was lifted into the car and driven to the hospital. Hockey was my biggest passion. In April 2009, I made an exceptionally high-level hockey team, which was my biggest accomplishment at the time. Gone.I completed numerous tests, all far from pleasant, and without my recollection. After conducting an MRI the doctor sighed, There’s something there, but we’re not sure what. More tests; this seemed to become a reoccurring theme in my life. The sun was rising as a verdict was finally declared. Your son has a brain tumor and must go into surgery, the doctor said in fear. In the blink of an eye, my life was flipped upside down. May 21, 2009 was the worst day of my life. I was gassed out, not making a difference to my already unconscious state, as the surgeons got to work. They conducted a successful biopsy of the mass inside my head. To my family’s relief, the tumor was benign, but it made no difference to me: my life was over. I continually asked myself, Why did this have to happen to me, why me? After manufacturing a home in the hospital for over a week, suffering excruciating surgeries, needles, and multiple visits from family, I was finally able to leave my worst nightmare and return home, but 59 | MUSE’INGS
not for long. Play dates, who doesn’t love them? I was a shy kid; meeting friends at a new school was daunting. I joined sports teams, opening opportunities for friendship. I jumped at every play date opportunity I could. I had finally formed friendships that felt as though they would last forever. Gone. Only 24-hours after leaving, I found myself slouched aside my family, again at the place I dreaded. We spoke with numerous doctors and received recommendations. I remember none of it, I was immersed in my own little world, Why me? After an extensive debate over a decision that would change my life, there was a decision. I would be put on a 70-week chemotherapy regime. I arrived at a new school, knowing not a person there—this was my ten-year-old definition of a nightmare. It took me a couple months until I finally started settling in. As the clock ticked on, I generated friendships and began to enjoy every second at school. I gained the feeling of finally fitting in, and I loved it. Gone.I was placed on my first round of chemotherapy, and went into the oncology clinic weekly for treatment. I hated it. After 80 weeks, I completed my chemo and it was the most glorious event since long before the night of May 21, 2009. But it was far from over. The first phase was unsuccessful, the tumor had grown, a second session of 60-weeks on a more intense dosage was required. Sports, social life, and school were only a handful of passions I lost.
