The beginning of what I thought was the end

This piece was my common app essay for college applications……..

I blink. Trying to focus my attention on the hypnotizing beat of the heart monitor. I blink again. Bright lights beam down, nurses hustle around attaching blisteringly cold monitors to my body. I lay there as still as I can manage as the warm tears cascade down my cheek, no control over what is about to happen. This moment nearly three years ago felt almost entirely surreal – an oblivion, out of my body, out of my mind. In that moment, a matter of seconds in time, but a small infinity in terms of meaning, the only thing lying still inside my swirling head – the letter C. Cancer. My reality. But in that moment, right as I was about to go under, I made a conscious decision in the midst of my worst nightmare. I made the decision to embrace what the next years would bring with all the strength I had, because I knew that in the end, I would not only survive, but also be stronger.

In the fall of my freshman year, I was diagnosed with a rare form of mandibular cancer. I am one of only a few people who have experienced this kind of metastasizing tumor – malignant Pleomorphic Adenoma. The only treatment was to remove a large portion of my lower jawbone including six lower front teeth with a clean margin (free of cancer cells). I was a fifteen-year-old girl. I had just started high school, and there I was, being told part of my face needed to be removed. I honestly thought this was the end, the end of everything I knew. All of a sudden and without warning, my entire life was about to change and all of the irritating, petty drama that once seemed to consume my days became completely irrelevant. Moving forward, onward, was one of the hardest and most draining things I have ever endured, but I knew I had to continue.

After the initial hurdle of coming to terms with my situation, I then spent the following two and a half years enduring ten painful surgeries including a bone graft from my hip to my jaw. I felt like a damaged and lifeless doll, held in the hands of people who told me they would put me back together as they tore me apart. My only option was to trust them. 

With each step, each surgery, I felt myself maturing. I learned to find the silver linings in the shadow of my darkest moments, to practice gratitude and joy in midst of my brokenness. I found the positive light and projected all of my energy toward it. Because of my poor attendance at school during procedures and recoveries, I learned to become self-sufficient, teaching myself the lessons and material and making up the majority of the work during the summer. I refused to succumb to the negativity that seemed to be constantly breathing down my neck.

Through my battles, and my triumphs, I have learned that life is all a matter of personal perspective. I have climbed mountains I would’ve never thought possible, and reached the peak, not to fall, but to breathe in a sigh of solitary relief. I had the best team of professionals, family and friends by my side as I made the ascent, but reaching that summit required the flame, the positivity, and the outlook that could only be attributed to myself.

Yes, I have worldwide notoriety. I am one in a billion; an anomaly placed under a microscope and written about in medical journals around the world. However, I will not allow this to be my legacy. Cancer is not my legacy. This was just one step along a path towards greatness. My legacy will be my contributions to the world despite the extreme adversity placed in my way. The biggest lesson I have learned in the last four years? That I can do anything. 

CC