Just over a year ago
my brother embarked
on his cancer journey.
I remember that gut feeling
that something was terribly wrong
when I was told
to meet my family at the ER.
How my stomach dropped
as I googled his symptoms
and kept seeing the word,
"leukemia."
It couldn't be that bad,
could it?
Tears tried to surface
as I reassured myself
on the car ride over
that I didn't have information yet.
Despite not knowing the facts,
my body had all of the signs
that this would be something terrible.
It knew before I knew.
I rushed to his room
in the children's ER
terrified of what was to come.
Over 3o minutes
the hematologist spent
with my dad and stepmom,
why was it taking so long?
Strep throat doesn't require
this much discussion.
When they finally came back,
there was complete silence.
I prepared for the worst.
The doctor talked
to my five year old brother
about what was next.
I heard the word,
"treatment"
and my heart shattered to pieces.
This can't be happening.
My sister and I
were brought to the "quiet room."
There was a couch,
a chair,
and a box of tissues
waiting for us.
I could barely keep it together
because I knew the next words
out of my dad's mouth.
"He has leukemia."
I lost it.
All of the emotion regulation I did
went out the window.
I sobbed the hardest I ever have
wishing the universe would've spared him.
The worst part
was seeing my eight year old sister
scream through her tears.
I knew life was about to change drastically
not only for him
but for her too.
This was easily
the worst moment of my life.
Childhood cancer is cruel.
It's unfair.
It's ruthless.
It kills loved ones.
It's something I never wished on anyone
especially my sibling.
Over the past year,
he has faced numerous trials
throughout his treatment.
He struggles with his port being accessed
and deaccessed.
I cannot describe
how painful it is
to hear him cry in terror
when this has to happen.
It is nearly impossible
to watch my baby brother
being poked and prodded
in order to save his life.
Thankfully,
he hit remission
soon after the beginning of treatment,
and he has stayed there.
He's gone through the worst of it
with just over a year left.
More and more
I realize that physically
he is going to be okay,
but I worry about how
this will impact his mental health
because this is a trauma
very few children have to face.
He is on track
to ring the bell
just a few months
before I get married.
There is an indescribable joy
regarding the fact
that he will be cancer-free
and done with treatment
at my wedding.
He will finally get to be
a normal
eight year old boy
that day.
A year ago,
my world turned upside down.
I didn't know
what was to come.
I am grateful
that he is healing
and we didn't lose him.
The thought of not having
my brother
is a thought that could've
been a reality.
