This is a photo column that ran in the Daily Egyptian on Wednesday.
This is my baby sister. Well, not baby. She just finished her freshman year of college.
Seventeen years ago, at age three, she was diagnosed with leukemia, which only needs the word "cancer" as a description.
Being five years old at the time, I was not told the severity of the disease, her chances of survival or the effects of the treatment.
I was merely told she was "sick."
I actually remember enjoying the time because, for a couple nights a week, even on school nights, I got to sleep over at friends' houses when my parents stayed at the hospital. While I played with friends, she went through chemotherapy, bone marrow tests and losing her hair.
She spent hours, lonely, in a hospital bed with tubes inside her body and making friends with children who didn't have a positive diagnosis.
At age seven, she was put on remission. Remission? I guess it means, "You're cured ... for the time being." A couple times every year since then, she has been poked and prodded to see if everything is going OK. It is; no signs of the cancer remain besides two scars from an operation.
I think there is another scar, however. One that has made her secretive toward friends and has affected her life-changing choices.
We all have scars, this is true - I just find it rare when a scar can be turned into something positive. My sister has decided to become a pediatric oncologist, or a doctor for kids with cancer.
I have never told her how brave I think she is. Instead of trying to bury the depressions of a lost childhood, she is embracing it by using her own scar to help heal those of others.
I have no doubt that she will be able to relate to the children she works with better than most others in the field.
It seems that we are always talking about cancer; ways to prevent it, how many lives it takes and what we learn from the struggles of those who endure it.
I could say something cliché like, "cancer can make all of us learn how precious life is," but basically, cancer just sucks.
But since it happens, I will say that I am proud of all those who have fought the battle, win or lose, and acknowledge the lasting effect that many of us feel from its presence.
