A life surrounded by cancer (Pt. 1)

I never planned on being surrounded by cancer. As a little girl, I didn't think, "Oh! One day I'll grow up and hang out with kids with no hair who are fighting for their lives!" (I actually wanted to train Orca whales.) 

Sheila on the far right, holding her Stephie

Growing up, I didn't even come into contact with cancer until our family friend Sheila Riley (the one with the game room under the stairs, the collection of cows, and the AWESOME pool) got really sick with breast cancer. My parents had a group of friends who all hung out together and had kids of a similar age. I grew up with these people, and they were as much my family as my blood relatives. And Sheila had the most bubbly personality. I was young, but I can still see her face. I can still hear her calling me "Stephie!" (Very few people call me that.) She felt the lump, got diagnosed, and passed away all within less than a year.

That was the first time I heard about cancer.

That was the first time that cancer took someone from me.

As I grew, I was fortunate enough that I didn't have to hear the 'c' word mentioned by any of my friends or family members. Then one day, my mom and sister and I were in the car with a friend from church, and she said that she needed to stop by a fellow parishioner's house to drop off some food because one of their children was just diagnosed with cancer. We pulled into the driveway and I thought to myself, "A kid with cancer? How am I supposed to act? What do I do?" I was so nervous. I got out of the car and timidly followed Julia up to the door. A young woman answered and ushered us all inside.

That's when I met Gloria.

The beautiful Gloria

If you know me or have read any of my other posts, you know Gloria's story. (You can also buy Jerry Brewer's book, Gloria's Miracle.) Most people, like myself at first, would hear "kid with cancer" and go running in the opposite direction. Or, they would donate money or deliver meals any other "as long as I'm not in the same room" type volunteer opportunities. But like most of the people who met Gloria will tell you, there was just something "special" about that girl. You couldn't help but want to be around her; it was an honor to be in her presence. During her four-and-a-half year battle, I had never felt closer to God. I was on my knees, begging Him to heal our sweet girl; for Him to take all the pain and suffering off of her body and put it on mine. I went to prayer sessions at house after house and said thousands of rosaries. I was the pillar of strength when with Gloria and her 6 siblings, and cried endless tears in the privacy of my room. Gloria was going to get her miracle. She just had to.

I remember it like it was yesterday. It was September 21, 2007. The beginning of my third year of college. I was sitting at my desk in my room when my phone rang. I looked to see who it was and it was Kelley. Instantly, I knew what she was going to say. Gloria was gone.

That was the second time that cancer took someone from me.

That was when I knew that I was going to spend the rest of my life around pediatric cancer. 

Now, I am a wish granter for the Make-A-Wish Foundation. I get the great privilege of coming into a child's life when they are facing demons that no one should ever have to face and granting them their most heartfelt, magical wish. These kids can wish to go, to be, to meet, to have, or to give anything that they want. Seeing the look on a 10-year-old's face as I tell him that his wish to go to Disneyworld with his family was granted is something that I'll never get tired of.

I never dreamed that my life would be surrounded by cancer. Especially after the discernment and soul-searching that I did after Gloria died. But I know that she was put in my life so that I would find out what I'm meant to do: improve the quality of life for kids with cancer, and do my damnedest to find a cure.