Dear Scott,

Mad, yes, I bet you are! What teenager wouldn’t be after being diagnosed with cancer? The world you knew just flew out the window and the word future has no concept at all. I know this because I have traveled the same path that you are on now. I’m just a few steps ahead of you. I am a cancer survivor for four years now, and writing you this letter, I hope that I can help ease some of the bumps in the road.

Your introduction to chemotherapy is the mountain we all have to climb. These life-saving, cancer-killing, toxic chemicals come in many colors and strange names--names that most Texans have difficulty pronouncing. After these treatments you will surely feel that you have just climbed that mountain, for all the side effects will be there.

Your body will be weak and tired. The so-called bath bucket they give you in the hospital will become your friend, because you'll spend countless hours spilling your guts into it. I'll be the first to admit that this is no fun, but this will let you know that the chemo is working. This is your so-called reward for reaching the summit.

You might get mouth sores that are caused by Methotrexate, which makes it difficult to eat, but then again, the hospital food is a killer anyway. I find this rather funny. The doctors are so concerned that you are not eating that they call in a dietician to tell you the importance of nutrition. They will read off a list of wonderful, delicious, fattening food, which sounds so good that might entice your appetite, and then they bring in the rancid-smelling tray, and you will have to say hello to your friend once again, the bath bucket. Then again, hospital food has taught me to appreciate the simple things, like mom’s cooking and a plain old can of chicken noodle soup.

Of course, there are medicines to help you through this. Zofran will ease the nausea and Predizone will increase your appetite, but will give you chubby cheeks. Then there is the loss of your hair. That might not happen to you. I have seen patients who have never lost theirs, but that didn’t happen to me. I lost it all. Yes, I will admit that the loss of my hair was the most depressing. Hey, us guys have an image to maintain.

I was surprised that the guys in my class wanted to shave their heads to make me feel more comfortable. This is where you find out who your true friends are. My illness gave me the opportunity to see a true friend shine, and the ones not so true, diminish—to me this is a gift.

There is no getting around needles; that’s something we all must endure, but thankfully there's Emla. Emla is a cream that when you leave it on your skin for an hour it numbs the area. Always have some with you. It has become one of my constant companions. Don’t leave home without it. You never know when the doctor might give you a surprise attack and ask for blood work. My motto, "be prepared." Also you never know when you might be in the vicinity of a tattoo parlor.

Naturally the chemo zaps your immune system and you can get infections very easy. So, this means that you will have to wear the dreaded "mask.” Hopefully, by now they will have some "cool" ones. Mine had cute pink and blue Teddy Bears on them. How cool can a guy be with that?

You will have people stare at you and that is the worst. Try walking up beside them and cough in their direction. It's pretty funny when they casually walk away, when really they want to scream and run to the nearest medical facility. It’s not your fault that they stare; it’s just that they are ignorant to the fact of what you are going through. I hated the thought of being cooped up in the house, so I had to weigh over the options. Mask or stay home. So I made my decision. I hated the "Mask", but I loved going to Wal-Mart more.

Being in the hospital on a holiday or birthday can really put a damper on the occasion. The doctors try to work everything out so this doesn’t happen, but sometimes it just can’t be helped. I remember when I had to spend an Easter in the hospital. I was so depressed, all I wanted was to be home and enjoy the holiday with my family. So I thought I was entitled to have a "pity party" for myself. When I woke up that morning, I had Easter eggs taped all over my bed and IV pole, (mothers can be very inventive). My pity party was a waste of time, for my entire family came to the hospital and that will be one Easter I'll never forget.

I know that these first few paragraphs are a little on the negative side, but it's best that you know that you are not on a joy ride. This is a rough road! I do promise it gets smoother along the way. As you journey down this road, please pay close attention to the roadside. You are meeting the most awesome people you will ever encounter—the doctors, nurses, child life specialists, and fellow cancer patients. You will meet children and teens in your same predicament. This way you will know you are not alone. No one understands better than another cancer patient.

Celebrities also walk the hall of the hospital. I have personally met most of the Houston Astros baseball team, three of the Jacksonville Jaguars, Tara Lipinski, the Olympic gold medalist, Garth Brooks and many of the local radio personalities. It’s pretty cool knowing that you admire these athletes, actors, and singers for their accomplishments and that they admire you for your accomplishments. It puts everybody on a personal level.

I think one of the hardest things for me was to watch my parents. I know that they took my diagnosis harder than I did. It is very difficult to give them assurance that everything is going to be all right, when you know in your heart it will. Take this time to be their child, and don't question their actions.

After time, I’m sure that you will feel like you are being smothered and need to get away. There are countless organizations that can help you and your parents deal with this. There are camps for kids and teens with cancer. No parents are allowed. Your parents will not need to worry. The counselors are made up of doctors and nurses, some of which you probably know. All your medical provisions are all provided and they are well equipped to handle any and all medical emergencies. This gives you the opportunity to experience freedom once again and to have fun.

Another organization that I got involved with is called Kids Unlimited. This foundation takes kids on fishing trips. These dedicated volunteers work and care very deeply in the job they do for us. A slogan written on one of their foundation vans really says it all. It reads: “If there is a way, even for a minute, to help these kids forget the awful existence of cancer...Our dreams become a reality." What more can I say?

The best advice that I can give you is what my nurse practitioner gave to me. Laugh. Laugh at everything. Rent funny movies, hang out with your friends and laugh, do everything possible to laugh. Trust me, laughter works wonders. If you are too busy laughing at something then you can't possibly be sad about your current position. It’s wonderful how laughter can change a person. It is also very contagious. Once a person starts laughing it can spread around the entire room within seconds. Chemotherapy will cure your cancer but laughter will sustain your spirit.

I was diagnosed at the age of 13. I am now a 17-year-old senior in high school. Cancer didn't keep me from school. As the doctors put it, “We don’t want cured dummies.” It takes a lot of hard work, but you can do it. Today I am a stronger person thanks to my diagnosis. Cancer put my life in perspective. I don’t take anything for granted for every day is a gift. Take one day at a time and if that gets too difficult than take it minute by minute. I hope that I have helped answer some of your questions.

If you are still mad, that’s okay, you have the right. Just don’t let your pity party last too long. Once you have gone through this you can do anything. Put your trust in your doctors and nurses, for they have been trained to deal with your illness. Your job is to keep your spirits high, and at times that can be hard to do. Stay on the high road and not the low road. I have walked this path before you, but that does not mean that my journey is over. So always remember, if you stumble and fall, pick yourself up and continue on for others are following us.

From one cancer patient to another

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