Cancer had always been a very foreign thing to me, I had never experienced the

true pain it brings to a family and all those around you. It had always been something I
never would have even guessed would happen to me, but unfortunately it did and this is
the story of how; What doesn't kill you makes you stronger couldn't be anymore true. I
dont really know quite where to start this story but I guess ill just start it when
everything started to go downhill.
I was a senior at Williamson High School in Cottonwood Heights, Utah; I had
many ideas and goals for what I wanted to do after graduation, really common things
like go to college and get a degree that would later get me into a solid career so one
day when I have a wife and kids I could support them. To most these wouldnt really be
goals but more just things they expected to have in their life, others would have goals
like; be a billionaire, sky dive, travel the world, own a company, but in all honesty, all I
ever wanted was a loving family of my own and a job that allowed me to spend as much
time with my wife and kids as possible. Now dont get me wrong, both my parents loved
me very much, but they were always occupied by something else. I had always been
closer with my dad. Growing up we would go fishing, hiking, and biking together up in
the wasatch front, but when I was fourteen he got the opportunity to go teach english
over in Asia, which he was ecstatic about because ever since he started teaching, he
always wanted to go to another country, but the only problem was that he was gone
nine months out of the year, and never came back in those months because the airfare
was just too expensive, so the only contact I ever had with him was about one phone
call a week.
During the middle of the second year my dad was in Asia, my mom got in a bad
car crash resulting in her having a broken femur, and a fractured neck, for about two
months she was in a neck brace, and nine months in a wheelchair. She recovered
quickly, however in those months she had been prescribed Oxycodone for the pain and
started to develop a problem. I started to notice when I would come home from school
and she would be sitting on the couch watching tv, but more just staring blankly at the
screen. She would reply to me only after I shook her, no matter how many times I would
call her. It got to the point where she would run out of her prescriptions after the first
week, when it was supposed to last her for three. The next two weeks would consist of
very bad mood swings, and her drinking from the time she woke up, to still holding the
bottle as she fell asleep. I couldnt bring myself to tell my dad what was going on cause I
knew he would be on the next flight back, and loose out on the job he had been waiting
so long for the chance to do. After she was all healed up, and the prescriptions no
longer came, she still seemed to be high all the time. I never knew where she seemed
to get the pills, but I finally brought myself to confront her about it. I asked her why she
had still been doing pills even though she wasnt prescribed any. She denied the fact
that she had been doing anything, but I could tell it really hurt her that I had known that
she had been doing them. After that confrontation, I never caught her on pills again,

however her drinking problem did not diminish. It seemed like it was about three or four
glasses of wine a night after she got home from her waitressing job at the local diner,
and on many weekends she would hit the bottle of Jack before she had even wiped the
sleep out of her eyes.
It was September when I started to feel sick. At first it just felt like any other
common cold; fever/chills, headaches, fatigue/weakness, loss of appetite, but after a
couple weeks the symptoms hadnt gone away, rather gotten worse, which worried me
and my mother because all my life I had a very strong immune system from spending
every minute I possibly could outside. We waited a couple days then finally decided to
go to the the doctor and get checked. The doctor did all the normal standards;
heartbeat, blood pressure, temperature, and last asked what brought us in. I explained
everything that was going on, yet he didnt seem to change his melancholy mood, but
suggested we do a blood test to see what they could find. He directed us to a different
room, and a nurse got ready to take my blood. This had me worried because I never
had really done well with needles, but I just did my best to not think about it, and got it
over with. They told us they would have the results back sometime soon and they would
call us to let us know what they find, In the meantime they suggested plenty of water
and rest. The following week dragged on, and I seemed to get weaker. It was getting
hard to pay attention in class which was very unusual for me because I had always
been that kid who got good grades and paid attention in class, but when you have a
headache and its getting hard to write you wouldnt be enjoying it much either.
It was a normal monday after school, I had just walked in the door to my house
when my mom came out of the kitchen and told me that the doctor had finally called
saying that we needed to come in to see him. She had this weird tone of voice that I
dont think I had really ever heard her use before. I asked if he had said anything else,
she said that he didnt, but we needed to come in as soon as possible. We got in my
moms car and made our way to the clinic. Only small talk was made like; How was
school What do you have planned for this weekend? Dad called and was telling
about his week. I didnt really speak much and just let her do all the talking, I had an
erratic feeling in my stomach.
We got to the clinic and checked in, and had only just sat down when the doctor
walked into the lobby and called us back. My mom and I both looked at each other
without any words spoken then proceeded to get up and follow him down the hall to his
office. He asked us to take a seat as he proceeded to the big chair across the desk from
us. Your test results came back He said with his usual somber tone as he pushed his
wire rim glasses back up his nose to adjust them, then was silent for a couple seconds.
Im sorry to tell you, but Will, you are very sick. Your blood showed up positive for Acute
Lymphocytic Leukemia. Back to silence, and it felt like someone took my stomache and
wrung it out like a wet rag. Everything began to get a little fuzzy as I looked at the
doctor. The techs tested the blood three times over and it showed up positive every
time. Silence again.

I know this is very hard to comprehend and understand right at first, but we
have trained therapists at this location ready to speak to you. He said as his gaze went
from me, to my mother, and back to me. Out of the corner of my eye I could see my
mom wiping tears from her eyes with her sleeve. I was speechless, which helped that
the doctor kept talking since I felt like I had forgotten how to speak. Its imperative we
get you started on Chemo right away, we can schedule a date for you to go into the
cancer center next week. The memory of how to speak came back. In a disgruntled
voice I said Are you even going to ask me if I want the Chemo? Maybe I don't want to
put that poison in my body. The doctor sat forward in his chair, adjusted his glasses
again and began talking Will, I know Chemo isnt an optimal decision, but your cancer
is very serious, and the chance of you making it without the chemo is near none. My
mom started crying again after he said that, and it went on for about a minute. The only
sound in the room was that of her crying, I would probably have been crying to if I hadnt
still been in shock. Finally she wiped her tears away again, and cleared her throat,
sniffling before beginning to talk, and in a cracked voice she started firing question, after
question How long is the chemo going to take, is it guaranteed he's going to get better,
is our insurance gonna cover this? The doctor cut her off before she could say anymore
questions Mam, your son has a very serious condition. There is no guaranteeing that
even with the chemo hes going to get better, but we are going to do all we can to help
your son. More crying came from my mom, as I sat with my hands in my lap looking at
my palms to avoid looking at anything else. After the questions ceased, and she
cleaned herself up, the doctor sent us to the secretary to set up a day a week later to
get started with the chemo, against my feeling. After the date had been set we had no
further business there, so we headed home. No words were spoken in the car, just the
occasional sniffle coming from my mom as I looked out the window not wanting to look
over at her, or have her see that I was crying also. I refrained from wiping the tears and
let them just run down my face so she would not see that I was hurting even more then
her.
When we got home I didnt say anything, just went to my room, and laid down on
my bed to get deep into my own thoughts. It was finally starting to register that I had
cancer, and not just any cancer but Acute lymphocytic Leukemia. I thought about how a
year from now I may no longer even be alive, and there went my goal for having a
family of my own, hell I wouldnt even get to experience what it was like to be a college
student. Something I had been looking forward to since I started high school. I realized
that once I started the chemo I would become even more skinny, which was something I
had always been very ashamed of my whole life. In highschool I started eating as much
as I could and going to the gym on a regular basis, but I could never seem to beat my
metabolism and I felt like I was doomed to be skinny forever. During the summer before
my senior year I finally started to fill out, and now it was all going to go away. I was also
going to loose my hair that I had been growing out and perfecting for four years. It had
finally become the perfect length, and style. I was very proud of my long light brown hair

that fell off my head to my shoulders, but never over my face. All I had done in those
four years of high school was for nothing. All those countless hours of work and
studying, going to the gym, gorging myself to the point of throwing up just to gain a little
more weight. It was all just a waste of time. New thoughts kept rushing in my head
overwhelming me to the point of tears, the last thing I remember pondering was
something I had pondered my whole life. God, where are you god. My parents had
never really been religious but rather left it up to me to make my own choice, which I
appreciated that I wasnt brainwashed like so many of my peers, but it often left me
wondering which way to go. I had many different opinions, and they all pulled me
different ways. However with this, it pushed me further away from the thought of God
then I think I had ever been pushed. How could a loving god do this to me when I had
never done anything wrong in my life? Maybe I smoked a little weed every once in
awhile, and got jealous of others, but compared to my peers who so blindly followed
god, I looked like a fucking saint. I was crying so hard at that point that my tears were
running down the side of my face and soaking my pillow, and it got the point I was to
tired to think, so I just cried myself to sleep.
I remember waking up to the sound of my phone ringing; everything seemed a
little hazy and I had no idea how long I had been asleep for. I went across the room to
find my phone laying face down on the floor by my door. I realized I must have dropped
it on my way in. I picked it up and saw that my dad was calling me. I hope it was just
one of his regular weekly calls, because it had seemed like a week since the last time I
had talked to him. I took a long, slow deep breath and answered the phone. Hey bud
he said in a very soft tone. I spoke to your mother. I could feel the tears coming up
again, but I choked them down. No words were said for a couple seconds until he broke
the silence. Im coming home in two months from today. Hearing this was worse than
having my Leukemia news broken to me. No dad, the school year just started, you
cant come home now. He paused again then continued William, I am halfway across
the country and my son has just discovered he is very sick, I am coming home. I
couldnt hold the tears back anymore, but I made an effort to not give any signs that I
was crying. Are you going to lose your job? It doesnt matter to me, all that matters is
that I get to come home and see you and be with you. Even though I didnt think I had
any more crying left in me after today, the tears were still streaming down my face. In a
broken voice I said I love you dad. As soon as I finished my sentence, also in a broken
voice he said I love you too Will. Now get some rest. We said our goodbyes and hung
up the phone. I looked over at the clock and realized it was twelve thirty. I knew I
wouldnt be sleeping that night so I just laid in bed with some soft music playing while I
thought of all the memories I had with my dad.
I must have dozed off at some point, because I woke up at six thirty to the sound
of my alarm going off. My first thought when I woke up was what is the point of school
when I have a potentially terminal disease. I laid in bed for a couple minutes until I
realized that soon the world would know of my cancer, so If I play it normal, it would

push off the inevitable questions that would come. So I showered, got dressed, and
went upstairs to get some food. I walked into the kitchen to the sight and smell of my
mom burning some bacon. I was confused because she hadnt made me breakfast
since middle school, but the day after I am diagnosed with leukemia shes in the kitchen
whipping up some food at 7 in the morning, when she normally wasnt up until about
ten, elevenish. She said good morning as I got myself a cup of milk, and sat at the table
as she served me a plate of scrambled eggs looking dryer then the sierra desert, two
pieces of scorched bacon, and a piece of toast with nothing on it. I said thank you as
she walked out of the kitchen presumably back to bed. I took one bite of the bacon, then
walked over to the trash and dumped it in, and covered it with the empty wrapper.
The next few days were just like any other day before I learned of my cancer,
however it was very hard to focus in class. I found myself roaming in thought while the
teacher talked, and I would bring myself back, trying to catch up, but having a very hard
time. About the third day, after my history class, my teacher stopped me as I was
walking out the door and asked me to stay for a moment, I could tell this was already
about me wandering off in thought. When all the students had left, Mr. Anderson who
had always been my favorite teacher, and someone whom I had always looked up to,
took a seat in his desk. Is anything going on Will, you havent seemed like your usual
self this week. I took a seat in the nearest desk, and paused while I thought of what to
say. I finally came to How does one stay motivated when he has been diagnosed with
Stage 3 Acute Lymphocytic Leukemia. That was the first time the name of my disease
had come out of my mouth, and it felt like I was speaking another language. He paused
for a second and it appeared like he was taking it in. Well if I was in your scenario, I
think I would try to learn as much as I could, and do things I never had, and make the
last of my time the greatest I possibly could. Hearing him say that blew my mind. In all
the time I had been thinking about it, I never thought about my prognosis as a
motivation to try even harder in life. I smiled and said Well, I guess I better get going
with life then. He said if I needed anyone to talk to he was always here. I said thank
you and headed to my next class.
The week passed by and I worked my hardest in every class, although it was still
hard not to loose focus. I still hadnt told anyone about the leukemia except my dad,
mom, and Mr. Anderson, but I guess my mom was not quite as quiet about it. One day
before I had my chemo appointment, I was walking through the halls from class to class
with my headphones in as I usually did, when a girl I had never really talked to, but I
knew our moms worked together approached me. She pulled me aside as I took out my
headphones, as she spoke she pushed the blonde hair back behind her ear. Is it true
youre really sick? I looked at her with a strange look and I could tell she knew too. I
was thinking about how she had never talked to me before, but as soon as she finds out
I have cancer she starts talking to me. I also thought about how nobody around me ever
actually used the word cancer but rather that I was very sick. It kinda pissed me off,
but I replied before I would be standing there in silence much longer Yeah, I wouldnt

be talking to me, or you might catch it too. She gave me a dirty look and just said Your
mom told my mom, so I just thought I would check on you. I didnt really feel like saying
any more sarcastic comments so I just said Im doing fine, just please dont tell
anyone. She said okay, and we parted ways. But you know girls in highschool, cant be
quiet about anything. After my next class It seemed like the whole school already knew,
walking through the halls I could see people pointing at me and whispering to their
friends. All throughout high school I tried my hardest to keep to myself, but now it
seemed like everybody in the school suddenly knew my name, or rather as just the
really sick kid. Many people tried to come up and acknowledge me, but I would just
keep walking like I didnt notice them.
The next day I didnt go to school, it was the day I would start my Induction
chemotherapy. I had decided a couple days previous that before I started I was just
going to cut all my hair off so I wouldnt just have giant strands of my hair falling out. So
I went and got almost all my hair shaved off, just to the point I wasnt quite bald. It felt
like I was getting rid of a part of me cutting all my hair off, but it also felt like I was
changing, which in a way felt good. I went home and relaxed and got one last big meal
before we left because in the research I found that I would have a very small appetite
once I started.
Just my luck that they decided to give me my chemotherapy intravenously, which
made me laugh at my luck, but I knew I better get used to it, so I took it like a champ.
Even though I still couldnt bring myself to watch them insert the needle. It helped they
were talking to me as they did it and telling me the Induction chemotherapy consisted of
giving me a combination of drugs to try to destroy as many leukemia cells as possible,
and get my blood counts back to normal. Then, later on the Intensification
chemotherapy will done to destroy any remaining cells that cannot be seen in the blood
or bone marrow. We got the first session done and my mom drove me home. I would
have gone by myself, but I felt pretty weak and worn out and I dont know If I could have
driven myself home.
The next week seemed to drag by very slowly, and school was getting even
harder and harder. I was still trying to avoid all the passerbys that suddenly thought they
were my best friends now that I had cancer, asking If I wanted to hangout with them and
their friends, or come to lunch with them. For the most part I would just walk by acting
like I hadnt heard them, but sometimes when I didnt feel quite like being so rude I
would just make up some excuse like that I was feeling nauseous, or that I had a chemo
appointment, and from that they usually left me alone for at least the rest of the day. It
was getting a lot harder to be at school or even just out in my public. From lack of
appetite I was already starting to lose what little weight already had, and was beginning
to look very pale. My joints were getting very sore, it was the sensation of having broken
glass in all my joints, and made even the simplest movements very difficult. I started to
hate going to school because walking around made me appear like I was ninety years
old, and as if everybody wasnt staring at me enough already. The day before I would

start Intensification chemotherapy was my last day at school because once it started it, I
would have little to no Immune system and being in school was like walking through a
minefield of germs and bacteria. My last day I had to be in a wheelchair because even
walking up a simple flight of stairs would knock me out of breath for about an hour. It
wasnt that bad being wheeled around school, except for the fact that the school nurse
was the one pushing me around. People began staring even more, but I just kept my
head forward avoiding any and all eye contact. To this day I still think I could have
gotten around faster pushing myself. At the end of the day as I was leaving out the front
of the school to have my mom pick me up, I saw that there was a big banner at the front
of the school over the doors that said Kick cancer to the curb Will Which everyone
signed and said something on. All my years of highschool I hated being acknowledged
by my peers, but for some reason this made me happy that they would do something as
simple as a gesture like this for me. I was also really glad that was my last day of
school, because that was about the point what little hair I still had started falling out, and
apparently when youre wearing a hat at school to cover your ugly, near bald head and
a teacher asks you in the hallway to take it off, and you say I have cancer It isnt a
good enough excuse to keep your hat on.
I could tell money had been tight lately with paying for all the Insurance
deductibles, and its not like my parents had the most high paying jobs in the world. Dad
would only be in Asia for three more weeks, then he would be coming home to get
another job that would allow him to be with me more. Mom had been hitting the bottle
even more ever since I started the chemo, but I just assumed she was having a harder
time dealing with it then me. She had been working much longer hours, and even into
the night sometimes, while I just laid at home watching movie after movie, often
sleeping during more of the movie then actually watching it. I hadnt even thought of the
possibility of her doing pills again until one day when I went into her bedroom looking for
a phone charger and looked in her nightstand only to find a clear baggie of white bar
shaped pills. It shocked me at first, and made me angry second that when money was
this tight she would be going off to god knows where and spending money on these
pills. I went and flushed them down the toilet and put the baggie back in the night stand,
not even thinking about the fact she would just think she had taken them all and go out
to by more. I was just thinking about how mad I was at myself at what I was doing to my
family. Money was tight as it was, and now I was devastating us. I knew it wasnt my
choice to have cancer, but I just felt empty as I ever had. I went and locked myself in my
room and listened to music. I dozed off and woke up to the sound of my mom coming in
the front door. I pretended I was asleep as I heard her walking down the stairs and into
my room. She stood there for a second before she walked over and turned off my
speaker, then walked out and shut off the lights in my room. The next week she never
said anything about the pills, and I couldnt bring myself to look her in the eyes. She
didnt seem to notice me acting any different either. Thinking back on it I think she had

been high most of the time through me having chemo, I was just to worried about myself
that I hadnt even noticed how different, and distant she had been acting.
One of the days after an Intensified chemo session I was feeling extra sluggish,
and had been sleeping all day. I woke up at about five in the afternoon and realized the
tv was still on upstairs which was odd because my mom was always at work at that
time, so I laid there for a couple minutes until I had to go to the bathroom. I pulled
myself up and out of bed and slowly made my way to the bathroom across the hall. All
along I had been thinking why my mom would be home on a wednesday when her days
off were Saturdays, Sundays, and Mondays. As I was walking back to my room I heard
her phone ringing upstairs. I finally made it to my bed, and she still hadnt answered her
phone, so I became even more curious. I walked out of my room and toward the
stairwell, to call up the stairs to her but got no reply. At this point I became very curious
and basically dragged myself up the stairs. As I was gathering my breath at the top of
the stairs my moms phone started ringing again. I slowly walked into the kitchen and
turned over her phone to see work was calling her. I called her name again and set the
phone down. As loud as I could without tiring myself out too much I called her name.
Still no reply, so I began walking around the house looking for her. I had looked in her
bedroom, which was empty, but didnt think to look in her bathroom which stemmed off
of her bedroom. It was the last place I checked and I noticed the light was on as I
walked into the bedroom. I walked around the corner and almost fell over when I saw
her lying there on the bathroom floor. I rushed over to her and tried to wake her up, but
her eyes were rolled back in her head and a foamy substance was leaking out her
mouth down the side of her face. The clear baggie of more white pills was on the
counter with a bottle of grey goose beside it. When she wouldnt wake up, I rushed into
the kitchen and dialed 911 as fast as I could. I finally got ahold of the dispatch and tried
to tell her what was going on, but at that point I was hyperventilating and couldn't get
much of a sentence out. The lady on the other end of the phone told me to take a deep
breath, tell me the address, and that she would have a car over as quick as possible. I
told her my address and stood there in the kitchen catching my breath as I waited for
them to arrive because I couldnt bring myself to go look at her again. After what
seemed like forever I heard the knock on the door and went down to answer It, I told
them what happened and they called the paramedics as they walked down the hall
towards her room. Another officer brought me outside and gave me a blanket. Thinking
back, judging on my appearance at the time the officer that helped me out probably
thought I was a serious drug addict until I told him my scenario. When the paramedics
arrived, and went inside to get her on a stretcher, the officer directed me into his car so I
wouldnt see her coming out. He drove me to the ER where he waited with me. After
hours of waiting in the lobby, a doctor came out and asked to speak to the Officer. At
that point I already had a feeling what was being said between the two. Tears started
streaming down my face, and my chest physically started to hurt, the Officer
approached me and asked me to come with him. Once we were in a secluded room he

told me that my mom was no longer with us, they tried to pump her stomach, and give
her the defibulators, but to much of the pills and alcohol had soaked into her system.
There was no bringing her back. I had to sit down and he tried to comfort me, and was
saying that everything was going to be okay, but at that point I didnt even know what
okay was. He left me in the room while he went and called my dad. He came back as I
kept crying, and said that my dad would be on the next flight back. He drove me down
to the station where I slept and watched tv until the next day when my dad came and
got me. It was good seeing him again, but not under these circumstances. When he
arrived we cried in each others arms until I dont think any of us could cry anymore. We
drove home and tried to act normal but it was impossible, there was to much grieving
going on.
The next few weeks were very hollow, and no day seemed to be better than the
previous. My dad got a job at the local hardware store and worked around my Chemo
sessions. Things started getting better for me, I finally finished my intense chemo after
the doctor told me that my Leukemia cells were nearly gone, and I was going to get
better, but they would get me on Maintenance therapy to reduce the risk of the
Leukemia coming back after the treatment was over. It was amazing to hear, but I
honestly felt empty inside after my mother had passed. I finished the Maintenance
chemo, and my hair started to grow back. I went back to school and everyone seemed
to have forgotten about me again which I was completely okay with, because I didnt
want to talk to anyone but my dad. Me and him tried to spend as much time together as
we could, and we rarely spoke of mom because it hurt to much. Family came out to the
funeral, and it was a very difficult time seeing everyone.
Once dad got a promotion at his job, we sold the house and many of our things
and moved into an apartment not to far away from school, because it was to hard living
in the house we were all together in most of my life. I got my grades back on track with
much help from my teachers, and even applied for college. I had the grades to get in,
and even had a good enough ACT score to possibly get a couple scholarships, but in
the college application, there was essay that needed to be done in order to complete
the application. The topic was What was your senior year like? and this is what
brought me to tell my story of how life changing my senior year was.

What doesnt kill you makes you stronger

By: Jack Gardner