The doctor's words were calm: "The sample of bone and tissue removed from your leg is malignant; the bone biopsy came back positive. You have cancer." Even though I had tried to prepare myself mentally for the possibility of bad news, there was no damming the flood of emotions: shock, disbelief and fear. I recall the start of 11 months of daily chemotherapy and radiation treatments, the nurse inserting an IV needle into each arm, telling me that the doctor would soon surgically implant a Port-a-Cath into my chest. Through those months of chemotherapy, at times I was sicker than I ever thought possible without dying. Most days I was too ill to get out of bed to stretch my legs or take a walk down the hall. I lost my appetite and was down to 85lbs. One of the worst side effects were the mouth sores. I needed heavy painkillers just to be able to talk and swallow. Scariest thing for me was when my blood cell count dropped to a severe low, making my immune system extremely weak which left me susceptible to catching anything. My lowest point came during my last round of chemo. I contemplated whether it was worth going through all this. I felt like just unplugging the IV and giving up. As I entered the maintenance phase of my treatment (daily chemo pills for two years) another deep, dark depression set in. Praise God, I'm now in remission. They say that five years cancer-free is a big deal, so I'm blessed to be past that marker. From the moment we heard the news, my family and friends stuck by me, regardless of how I looked, felt or acted. I wonder how people make it without family and friends. They're the true survivors.

Laura Farago
Stockton, CA