Home is one of those things I didn’t really think about until I went to college. After a few months at Drexel, I remember talking to some of my friends about which place we referred to as home – our dorm or our house. Looking back, I don’t know why we were trying to pick one or the other. I’ve realized home is not so much the location but rather the people and memories you surround yourself with, and it’s okay to have more than one.
My current house with my family has been home for the longest, but I know I’ve been influenced by other homes as well. We moved from Massachusetts when I was 5, but I remember more than I expected. It wasn’t until late elementary school that I realized every time I read a book that was set in a house that wasn’t described in much detail, I pictured our house in Massachusetts. I always pictured my favorite character or the one I could relate to the most having my bedroom. I still do this, though I’m more conscious of it now. When I go over to some of my friends’ houses, it’s like being home. Their families are my other families. If they know I’m coming, I know it’s pretty much expected that I’ll let myself in instead of knocking and that I know where the glasses and drinks are just like I do in my own house. By the second half of freshman year, it was easy to consider my dorm at school a second home. I was surrounded by great friends, including my roommate and other people on my floor. This year, when I was back at Drexel for only three months and living with a stranger who was hardly there, it was harder to think of it as home. She was nice, but there was not the kind of connection that I associate with places I call home. Right now, I call Maryland home. I live in an area with a balance of trees/nature and convenience. We have space and privacy, but it doesn’t take too long to get to a gas station or grocery store. I went to great public schools where I met many of the amazing friends I mentioned in my last post and I learned enough that I actually felt prepared for college, unlike quite a few of my peers from other school systems. DC, Philadelphia, Baltimore and Harpers Ferry can all be day trips. Same with Hershey Park or Kings Dominion and the beach or mountains. I love being in the city for college since I don’t have a car but once I settle down, I picture myself returning to somewhere with more green space and less traffic. I don’t know where that will be, but it will be home as long as I’m with people I love. How do you define home? Do you have more than one?
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Most people are surprised when they hear that I met most of my best friends in elementary school. We decided to be friends for random reasons that made sense in elementary school, including liking each other’s names or clothes, but somehow those friendships have lasted. We don’t necessarily see each other very often now that we’re all in college, but I know they’ll always be there. At this point, we’ve been through so much together that it would be silly to let something stupid break us apart.
During my first treatment, I learned pretty quickly that not all of my friends would stick around. I wasn’t in school, so it was a lot more effort to keep up my friendships, and that effort was required from both sides. When I went back to school, I reconnected with some of my old friends, but I’m still closest with the ones who were there through it all. The same thing happened when I was away from Drexel for 18 months. I kept in touch with a few people but others disappeared, and that’s okay. My friends, along with my family, have always been my biggest support system. I’m lucky to have friends from so many different parts of my life – childhood, camp, the hospital, Drexel, and family – which is great because I get a variety of perspectives. I know it isn’t easy to watch someone go through treatment and feel like there’s nothing you can do, but my friends did what they could, which was way more than I ever imagined. During treatment, they never failed to make me smile: they texted, visited, called, and made me a scrapbook and my countdown chain. When my weight was down, they brought me food and insisted I ate the entire last cookie even though I know they wanted some too. They brought our annual Christmas party to me when I was stuck in the hospital and joined the bone marrow registry in my honor. They wrote me letters and sent cards. They considered my immune restrictions when making plans. They designed an awesome t-shirt to show their support. They planned surprises with my family and brought me gingerbread houses even when I missed an annual gingerbread house party. They came to visit me from Drexel since I couldn’t go there. They let me have rest period at camp, even though that luxury is denied to most activity staff. Of course, I’m not referring to any one friend here – my life is better because of many great friends. My friends have been here for me every step of the way, through the awkward teenage years, breakups, and all the other ups and downs in life. I know I can always count on them, and I hope they know they can always count on me. Friendship doesn’t require grand gestures, but take the time today to let your friends know you’re thinking of them. It’s day 2 of the A-Z challenge! This post goes out to Ella-Mae, my first clinic nurse when I was diagnosed in 2004. After a few months, she transferred to adult oncology, but we have kept in touch for the last 10 years. She suggested B is for beautiful and elaborated, “how you are inside and out, through chemo, scares, tribulations, and being away from the life you knew.” Some people would call that brave. Some people call it beautiful. I wasn’t trying to be either. I stayed positive because it was the only thing I could control when everything else seemed to be falling apart. I kept fighting because I didn’t see any other option. I’m friends with many other cancer survivors and they’re some of the most beautiful people I know. After all they’ve been through, they’re always giving back: volunteering at camp, studying to become nurses or doctors, or raising money for organizations that supported them during treatment. Their scars show their strength and resilience after all they’ve overcome. Everyone is fighting their own battles, which you may or may not be able to see. I’m incredibly thankful that I learned this at a young age because it’s made me much more appreciative and compassionate and allowed me to surround myself with beautiful friends. Beautiful people, to me, are much more than a pretty face. They are good for the mind, not just the eyes. They are the ones who have learned from their experiences and mistakes, big or small, and have become better rather than bitter as a result. They know it’s better to be unique than a copy of someone else. Surround yourself with these people, the ones who build you up instead of knocking you down, the ones you’d still be drawn to even if you were blind – they’ll be friends for life. |
AuthorI’m Karen. I was originally diagnosed with Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia (ALL) in August 2004 when I was 10 years old. When I was working on my college and scholarship application essays two years ago, I wrote about my journey. Although it was a rough few years, it became such an influential part of my life that I can’t, and wouldn’t want to, imagine my life without having had cancer. I called it the worst best thing that ever happened to me. Archives
April 2022
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