OC HIGH: STUDENT NEWS AND VIEWS...

The nurse led me through a long, fluorescent-lit hall into an office, where I saw my mother in tears and my doctor looking solemnly down.

“You have a disease called cancer,” my doctor told me. Being only 10 years old, I figured they would give me a prescription and maybe a shot. Little did I know that months of chemotherapy and radiation, along with years of recovery, tests and X-rays, lay ahead.

Only two weeks earlier, I had undergone surgery to remove a tumor from my tongue. Because the surgery was not intended to remove the cancer, I had to get radiation treatment for a month after that.

The radiation rooms always seemed dreary. The radiologists, in protective, layered clothing, led me down endless hallways to the lowest level of the hospital, where huge beeping and buzzing machines encircled me.

Because radiation rays also kill normal cells along with the cancer cells, I developed painful sores in my mouth that prevented me from eating. As a result, I had tremendous weight loss and developed malnutrition.

Besides radiation, I received weekly and daily shots that resulted in severe vomiting, weakness, aching joints and hair loss. I would wake up in the morning, horrified, staring at my pillow, where hundreds of strands of my hair had fallen.

I always knew cancer meant something bad, but I had no idea that it meant pain and struggle. Seeing other kids suffering strengthened my will to become healthy, and I promised myself it would not take my life. And when it didn’t, I felt guilty that I still had a chance at living when others would not be given this gift.

After going through this, I realize that life is a precious gift. We should appreciate every little thing we are given, because we never know when it can all be taken away from us--or we can be taken away from it.