The Right Way to Fight

It was a usual Thursday morning. I woke up, walked sleepily to the kitchen and made myself a bowl of Frosted Mini Wheats. I carried my bowl to the dining room table and made simple conversation with my sister as we ate breakfast together. The phone rang echoing throughout the house. As my dad ended the call, he looked at me hesitantly. He shook his head; my heart sunk. Immediately my knees grew weak beneath me; immediately tears streamed down my face. The cancer had taken her.

Rewind two weeks. Standing in the hospital during one of our last visits to see Aunt Jane, we had just received bad news. The doctors knew she wouldn’t make it much longer and it took everything in me to hold it together for my family. My mother looked at me in that moment and through tears choked the words, “You’re smart enough to beat this!” At the time I didn’t quite know what that meant. As I began my freshman year in college less than a year later, the only thing I could think to do was begin the long path to medical school.

I hesitantly held my cell phone in my hand, anxiously staring at the send button waiting to make the call I had been dreading. For the last three years of my life, my mom had been my biggest fan, proud that her daughter would eventually be a doctor. She answered the phone, excited to hear from me, though I swore I was about to let her down. I finally revealed my dreams of being a research scientist to her, convincing her that I didn’t need med school. She gave me her reluctant approval and I confidently reminded her, “I can still beat this, mom, I promise”.

Always follow you're dreams, never any one else's.

Word Count: 297