Cancer. It was the disease that changed my life. It was the disease that broke me. It was the disease that caused me to lose the life I’ve known.
Unfortunately, it did not hit me, because I would have welcomed death rather than lose the people I loved. No, it was my mother who suffered and died under the cruel hands of that silent killer. Leukemia—that was the type of cancer that ripped her off her once young, energetic and healthy body. It was hereditary, like the small fortune my grandmother left us, the difference was; you can refuse to accept fortune, but there was no refusing the disease, just the inescapable battle with death. And we all knew who wins at the end. My grandmother died of the same illness.
Cancer. After a few years of my grandmother’s death, and after consulting medical experts, about the changes my mother felt within her body, the test results came positive for her and it was malignant. She tried different means to somehow slow down its process, but the monster illness was persistent. Her body finally gave up a year ago, and so now my sister and I were so-called orphans. My father already died when my sister was just eleven and I was two years old. It was a car accident that took his life; I could barely remember the details my mom and sister used to tell me when I asked about him.
Cancer. Ironically, was also my star sign (though I don’t have much belief about those things), having been born in the fourth of July. And so I was named Julianne Marie Sangre—Julie, is what I preferred. I wasn’t so fond of being called Julianne or Marie… I was a girl born and raised, until my early teens, in a small town, thousands of miles away to where I was fated to be.
And this was my story…