• Just as the mythological Atlas holds up the weight of the world, asking for no help, there are people who play a similar role for their peers. Although they have emotional strength rather than physical, they provide an equally dynamic force. We tend to be ignorant of these hidden forces, yet we benefit from them. Maybe it’s time to contribute and hold up their world.
    Early in December, my family was weighed down by medical concern. The cool, harsh winds seemed to launch me even farther into an intense abyss of a near passionless existence. Locked behind a veil of stress and trauma, I was unperceptive of all the positive and supportive people around me. My friends would extend a hand and provide an unbiased person for me to vent. But, for some reason, all I could envision was ignoring the outstretched hands and walking away from my compassionate, trustworthy friends to sit alone. I wanted to confide in my friends, I knew they were trustworthy. I needed to vent, but I just found myself isolated, sitting off in a dark corner alone. Every time someone approached me, I would find words pouring out of my mouth before I even thought to speak. “Thanks for caring, but I just want to be left alone.” I felt desperate, helpless, lost; the world was out to get me and my family and there was nothing I could do about it. I was alone.
    To this day, I still hate secrets. It seemed that each day since my dad had been diagnosed with his tumor, there was a new secret. The day I found out about my dad’s tumor was, for the most part, a normal day; I went to school, I went to the park with my friends after school, I came home, made dinner then began my homework. I was calmly taking notes from the text of my chemistry book, when I overheard my mom on the phone upstairs. “My ex Jim, has a large tumor.” A pause “I asked him if he was going to stop smoking, he said ‘why, what’s the point, if I’m dying?’” I thought back to two days prior, the first time I had spoken to my mother in a week. “Your dad may be really sick, he finds out Thursday.” Today is Thursday, how could I have forgotten? I picked up the phone and realized my mom was using it. I pulled myself together and regained control, I needed to study. The next day, my first period teacher called me to her desk to ask me why I forgot my grade check. “I’m sorry Mrs. Beckham, but I had a lot on my mind last night, and I forgot.” Tears began to well up in my eyes. “Is everything okay, what happened?” I nod, trying to pull off my lie. “No its okay, it’s nothing to worry about.” “Well obviously it is something to worry about if it’s distracting you from your class work, your homework and causing you to cry, you can tell me what's going on.” I nod once more and stare at my shoes; maybe if I stay silent it will all just go away. “You will feel much better if you let it out.” I caved “My aunt has been at the UCLA medical center waiting for a heart transplant since December, and now it’s February.” “My husband just had brain surgery done at the UCLA medical center; they will take really good care of her there.” “I also just found out my dad has a large tumor and neither of my parents are telling me anything.” I could no longer hold my façade up, my protective walls just dropped like paper. “Do you want to borrow my phone and call him?” “No, no I’ll be fine; I get to see him tonight.” She reaches into the bag under her desk, “I wasn’t asking you, go out into the hall and call your dad.” I obeyed “Daddy” “Hi honey, what are you doing?” “I’m at school.” “What are you doing calling me if you’re at school?” “I was wondering how your lab results came out.” Tears started streaming from my face. “Oh they came out fine …I’m fine…So do you want me to pick you up tonight?” “You’re sure? And yes please, I’ll call you when I get home.” I knew he was lying; the hesitation in his voice gave it away. I wanted to scream at him, I wanted to tell him I knew, but the words wouldn’t come out. “Okay, see you tonight.” I dried the tears form my eyes, regained my cool and walked back into the classroom, in worse condition than I was before I touched the phone. I could not comprehend how I could feel any worse than what I did at that moment of time, yet the next day I was sitting at the baseball field and my sister’s step dad was talking to our dad. “So how did your tests come out?” “Oh they’re fine they have to do some more though.” “What are they-” “-Sush, she doesn’t know,” and he points to me. I fought back tears of rage, I didn’t believe things could possible get worse, and yet they had. The next week would begin a new pattern: instead of hanging out with friends before school, I would go to ASB and stare blankly at my books. At lunch I would sit under my favorite shady tree (on occasion I would cry there). I no longer stayed at the park with my friends after I climbed off the bus, instead I would immediately head home. On my way home I found an empty, enclosed field of fresh, green grass. I would sit on the grass, and cry if necessary for an hour before going home to face my mom. I would also call my cousin constantly for updates about my aunt. I had no clue how I was going to survive.
    The Thursday my dad’s major test results were to come in, I had multiple panic attacks. The day started out cheerfully, but as word of the results began to approach me, the more I desperately needed to know. There was also the idea of negative results, mentally overweighing the chances of the positive ones. I wanted, no needed my dad to be okay, but my doubts were surrounding me, drowning me, forcing me to think that the very worst possible was to be his fate. I walked into my first period class, holding my cell phone and smiling, my first genuine smile in months. “The results come in today, I can’t wait, and I think I’ll have them by lunch. I can’t wait!” lunch came and I was still locked in the same dark closet I was thrown into the day my dad found out he was sick. I took a seat under my usual shady tree, I stared at the tiny silver phone in my hands, “what’s the point of having this if it won’t tell me whether he’s going to live or die?” I threw the phone as hard as I could, and it landed on a patch of grass. I begin to bawl. My friends swarm around me like a swarm of bees. Someone handed me the phone, “you’ll never know if you don’t wait it out.” I helped myself up, and I ran into a nearby building until I couldn’t breathe. I fell to the floor, is it that bad? Is that why they won’t tell me? The bell rang and I stumbled to third period then fourth not ushering one word for the remainder of the day. I went directly home and collapsed on the couch sobbing. I woke up two hours later realizing I must have cried myself to sleep. My mom comes in, “any word yet?” she takes a seat next to me. “Not yet.” “Have you called him” I shake my head “well how do you expect to know, if you don’t ask?” “I’m scared, mom” she just looked at me; I have never spoken those three words to my mom in my life. “I know you are but you are strong, and no matter what happens you will have to remain strong.” She hands me the phone and I dial my dad’s number. “Daddy, did you get your results today?” I bite my lip hard, to keep myself from saying ‘wait; don’t tell me I don’t want to know’ “well they said it didn’t spread and they can remove it. They have to do one more test before the can cut it out, and after that I get chemo and I’m done. I’m going to be fine. A few weeks later my sister threw a party for my dad and I got a phone call, my aunt got her heart transplant and would be home in a week. I hung up the phone and dropped to the floor, tears streamed down my face, but not the heavy, dark tears of sorrow, but the light, clear tears of joy. Everything was going to be fine.
    The five months portrayed above, were by far the hardest in my life. Never do I want to step foot in a hospital again, nor have secrets kept from me. The real truth is that this experience has made an impact on my life, if you don’t question what you think you know, you don’t know anything at all. I also know now that if I can survive this, I can survive anything. This has made me stronger and my strength will only continue to grow.