Young Writers Society

Leukemia: A cancer of the white blood cells.

I was 3 months old when I was diagnosed with this cancer. My first memory that I can remember is when my parents were watching me beside my bed in the hospital. I was three years old and they thought I would die that night.

When I was five I started school and instantly became the kid that everyone was afraid of. I had cancer and to the other kids it was an infectious disease that would cause them to loose all their hair too. My mom pulled me out after seven months and placed me in homeschool with my older sister Brittany.

I remember being tired all the time and my mom letting me sleep longer than Brittany, and dad taking me to the doctors when I couldn't breathe that well. On my eighth birthday I was in the hospital because my breathing was really bad. After that I was on oxygen. The doctors told my parents that I was getting worse and needed treatment. Unfortunately we didn't have the money to pay for it. So we went home. Four months later dad left, mom said he couldn't stand to see his only son slowly die and not be able to do anything. I was scared, my first thought was that he didn't love me. My mom and sister comforted me and helped me with my schoolwork to keep my mind off of it.

Dad came back after a year and stayed. I was nine now and was like any boy, except for the fact that I was always tired and on oxygen 24/7 to help me breathe. I couldn't play any sports because my mom was afraid that I would get hurt somehow. Dad bought me a game console and a bunch of sports games so we could play together.

When I was ten, we got the thing we had all hoped for. Someone donated the money for my treatment. Mr. and Mrs. Darness said that they felt bad for me, their own daughter had the same thing and they didn't have the money to save her, but now they have the power to save me. We became close and we eventually stared calling them Auntie and Uncle. So I started the treatments.

Brittany was seventeen and starting the applications for college, at least that's all i remember from the day I died. We were both sitting at the kitchen table eating dinner when I realized that my oxygen wasn't pumping right. I checked my lines and everything. It was all working correctly. So I shook it off and went back to eating and talking to my family. Later on when we were getting ready for bed I suddenly found that I couldn't pull enough air into my lungs.

My sister who shared her room with me in case something happened like this noticed right away and called mom and dad in. They rushed me to the hospital, on the way there my airway closed up and I was gasping for every breath. Brittany was crying silently and holding me like a baby.

Once we were there dad grabbed me and ran in. We were swarmed with nurses and doctors. They wheeled me into the ER and pushed a tube down my throat. They started pumping air into my lungs and I could feel the weight exit my chest. I felt my eyelids closing. I was sleepy. The nurses smiled and hooked me to a machine and wheeled me into a private room and went to talk to mom and dad.

The last thing I remember is Brittany holding my hand and whispering into my ear. "They said that you don't have much time Bradley. I'm sorry for you having to go through this. I love you baby brother." She kissed my forehead and rubbed my arm till I fell asleep.

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My little brother died on June 3rd 2005 after going into respiratory distress. He stayed alive for three days before slipping into a coma and dying on his eleventh birthday. My parents were depressed for years after and even though I'm 24 now with a son of my own they still haven't come to terms with the loss. Im thankful everyday that my son Bradley doesnt fall prey to my brother's cancer.

My brother would have survived had he gotten his treatment when it was discovered he had it. His cancer was advanced when he finally got it. Unfortunately We got it too late and there wasnt anything we could have done about it. Bradley was born when I was 6 years old and I resented him because I thought he was taking my place. When he was diagnosed I wanted him to die quickly. When he was 3 I was scared when he almost died and took everything back. When he finally died when I was seventeen I cried.

Sometimes it takes a loss to realize how much you love someone.

~Brittany Shepard