Personal Narrative: Prostate Cancer

Who knew that three jarring words would cause a hurricane. Like any other day, I swiftly walked home after school. I skipped up to my watermelon colored room and clicked away to Candy Crush. Then my dad hollered for my brothers and me. Running down the stairs, I hoped to discuss our next tropical destination. Reaching the bottom, I entered into the kitchen only to find glistening tears beginning to swell up in my dad's eyes. "So, there's a small problem with my health," he paused for a brief moment, "I have cancer, prostate cancer." Instantly, those three words crushed me. I felt as if I got punched in the gut while my skin turned as white as a ghost. As his best treatment, he selected “the DaVinci” robotic surgery performed by Dr. Shelhav at the University of Chicago. In four short days, it would be time.

I devoted my precious Candy Crush time into researching as much information as possible. I spent countless hours on the internet soon learning how intrigued I was with the world of medicine. That Tuesday, my mom woke me up to the darkness of the world to get ready to embark on our expedition to the hospital. As we arrived, my dad got wheeled away for surgery. Afterwards, Dr. Shelhav called my mother and me into his office describing that everything went as expected, but he took a biopsy to ensure there was no nerve damage. Biopsy I quickly scribbled down in my notebook knowing I'll have to do more research. Later that night, my mom journeyed home with my brother who was in high school while I stayed. I became intrigued by the IV’s draped down his veiny wrists, tubes coming out of his abdomen, and this dark red bloody draining balloon dangling off the side of his white bed. Never seeing half of the medical equipment or knowing what was happening, I questioned