I was sixteen when my mom got the diagnosis. Cancer. When my parents told me, there was no tearful, emotional speech, just clam reassurances that life would be different, but we would get through this together. The family calendar quickly filled up with doctor appointments, hospital stays, and confusing medical terms. School flyers on the refrigerator were lost behind appointment reminders and medication charts. Life went on: laundry, carpools, homework. However, the roles in the family shifted, barely noticeable at first. Small incremental steps that didn’t seem too challenging. I did more of the household chores, learned how to mow the lawn, and took over some of the grocery shopping. None of the changes seemed dramatic in the moment. As the weeks of treatment went on, she got increasingly sick, and finding a balance between home and school got harder. While my classmates were thinking about Friday football games and girlfriends, I was becoming fluent in medical terms. Asking for help wasn’t something that came easily for me, but it was the only way to balance these new demands. I talked to my guidance counselor and told my teachers what was going on. When I saw too much ahead on the horizon, I stepped in early to get on top of it. Some of my homework still got turned in late, and I failed a few quizzes, but I realized some things were more important than homework and quizzes. What surprised me the most was how many people just stepped up quietly, often without being asked. A neighbor delivered soup. A friend offered rides. My math teacher wrote “Take your time” on an assignment. Up until this, I had confused independence with strength. I started to understand that true strength is knowing when to ask for help, and sometimes it starts with a humble, honest understanding of what you can and can’t handle that week. When my mom finished treatment, we fell back into a regular groove again. Looking back, I wouldn’t wish this experience on anyone, but living through it forced me to look outside myself towards helping others. Helping my mom took the focus off myself and pushed me outside my comfort zone. I am a very introverted person, and I have always been within my own circle and not looking outward. Something fundamental has shifted in me after my mom’s cancer battle, and motivated me to start volunteering around my community. Instead of a typical summer job, I spent time at two food pantries (People In Need and Common Ground) that help food insecure people in my town. Before I never would have had the courage to step out of my bubble and put myself in a new situation just to help a stranger. However, seeing how many people stepped up for our family has changed me and made me want to pay that forward to others.

I was only a kindergartener when I had my first grand mal seizure. I'd say it was scary, but to be honest, I don't remember it. The thing I do remember is waking up to see how scared my parents were. They tried to look cheerful and relaxed, but the tension was all over their faces. The journey through countless doctors, specialists, and medical tests was daunting. Especially as a little kid. When the diagnosis of epilepsy was secured, the tension did not seem to leave my parents faces. It seemed to pull them in closer. Constantly watching me, checking on me, startling easily at sounds when I was in another room, and hovering to be sure I wasn't having another event. The type of epilepsy I have occurs when I am asleep, so for me, not much about life seemed to change. I never knew when the seizures were coming on or when they were happening. I only knew in the aftermath waking up to frantic parents telling me what had happened. There is a luxury there in the being the one who has the easier side of the experience. The hardest part of this has always been watching the stress and fear it causes my parents. Their worries and anxieties weigh on my heart, although I am blameless and helpless to control anything about the seizures. As I have grown older, they have become less frequent, and I am told I may grow out of them completely one day. They have made me appreciate the love and commitment that parents have for their children. Most teens take their parents for granted and may not notice all that they do for them. I have seen clearly through this experience the love that they have for me as they have walked beside me during this challenge. I am a high school senior and hope to go to college next year. I know that leaving home and starting on my own away from home will cause all of us some stress, but I am excited for what this next chapter may hold. Epilepsy is not who I am, it is just a part of my past that has had a hand in shaping my experience and perspective. It has made me more attuned to other people's struggles with health issues, and given me perspective and grace to not judge people as harshly since you never know what they are battling.