I remember shaking uncontrollably as I called out for help,

only to hear the terrifying response of silence.

I remember the needles sinking deep beneath my skin again

and again as they searched for my unforgiving veins.

I remember watching my brother try to hide his tears from me

– I had never seen him cry before.


I was a Redwood surrounded by a forest of Weeping Willows.


I remember stuffing my face with peanut M&Ms before the

poisonous medicine that was forced into my body had run its course.

I remember lying alone in the hard, uncomfortable bed while I

talked to my stuffed bear, Max, hoping he would somehow take away the pain.

I remember my entire family sitting around me, waiting for our

miracle to arrive.


I was a smile covered by watery tears.


I remember waking each morning hoping the day ahead would

be better than the last.

I remember the sterile smell of antibiotic wipes as they hit my

skin, preparing me for yet another procedure.

I remember watching my mom sit in the corner of the oddly

shaped room each day, flipping through the television channels as we waited for the fluids to flow down the tubes into my thirsty veins.


I was a child struggling to stay afloat in choppy waters.


I remember waking in the dead of night crying out in pain and

knowing something was very wrong.

I remember standing in front of the stiff white board as the

machine took pictures of my chest, wishing it could show how damaged I really was. I remember nothing but blackness and quiet sobs lost beneath the uneasy voices shouting in the foreground.


I was nearing the end of my battle.


I remember hugging my mom in relief after he told us it was


I remember fighting through the joyful tears as I called my

brothers with the news.

I remember coming home to a place where I was able to just

be a kid again.


I am here. I am alive. I am stronger than ever.