Too much to forget

I can't believe it's been almost eight years since the attack on Sept. 11.

I will never forget that day, because so many disastrous and weird things happened. I woke up that morning and went to cross country practice, just like any other day. I was a junior in high school, and I was dealing with the trivial stresses of teenage life, topped off by a pain in my foot. It had been there for a few weeks, but this morning it was particularly awful, and I felt shooting pangs running from the top of my foot, through my shin and up to almost my knee. My coach told me to go to the training room to have someone look at it. No bueno.

Well, when I got to the trainer, the television was on, and I could see that there was some sort of serious breaking news. I really only concern myself with sports, so I didn't pay too much attention to it. After all, I was just a selfish high schooler concerned with not much more than the troubles I was facing.

I heard someone in training room talking about how New York had just been bombed. As we were staring at the reporter on the screen, another plane flew on its suicide mission. What...was...happening?

I realized this was an actual serious event now. America was under attack.

I got dressed for school and went to my next class, still confused at what was going on in the world. Oddly enough, my second period class was history, so we of course tuned in to the news to keep up with the latest updates. But, for some reason, things still weren't clicking, and I was more concerned with my possible broken foot. So, I called my dad, who worked in orthopedics at a hospital, to see if I could get in for an X-ray.

Although I could drive, my mom insisted on taking me. When we got to the hospital, there was the news again. More terrorism. More deaths. And it still wasn't fully clicking. After all, I had a stress fracture, and for some reason that's all I wanted on my mind at the moment.

When my mom brought me back to the school, we were surprised to find the main entrance to the parking lot blocked off, and the whole school had evacuated the building. Seriously? Apparently some prankster thought it would be funny to call the school with a bomb threat on the day when our nation had just witnessed terrorism at its finest.

They wouldn't let us in the front, so my mom and I parked at the Quizno's right by the school and walked over. If they were going to let people go home, we were taking my sister with us, so we set out to find her. Well, we did, but then we were stuck. No one was going anywhere.

It was rather hot (as it usually is this time of year in Texas), and after multiple hours of sweating in the sun, everyone was finally shewed into the field house out by the football field. Have you ever been in a confined space like that with a couple thousand people? Let me tell you, it's no picnic. When we finally were able to leave, the whole day felt almost like it had been in this weird, alternative universe, and I still didn't have a clue what it all meant.

I felt kind of guilty after a little while. I knew what had happened was horrible, but was I a heartless wench for not crying or mourning like those around me? I don't show a lot of emotion like that often, but I still felt like I wasn't even feeling enough. I mean, there were so many lost, innocent lives because of this tragedy, and I had fretted more over my stupid stress fracture than anything else. What kind of person was I?

Looking back now, it's easy to say that what happened was horrific. I guess, though, that at the time I was too naive to understand fully the events that had taken place. I suppose my level of maturity was also a factor in that, when you are in high school, the world often revolves around you and you alone. But I realize that this is so far from true. There were far too many heroes and victims on Sept. 11, 2009, to think that the trials I faced as a teenager could measure up to anything that happened in our nation that day.

Another thing I will always remember from that day are the calm skies. It's strange not to have planes flying overhead and hear the distant roar of the traveling engines. The serene atmosphere was almost choking and eerie.

Just like the blur of the entire day.

A Cancerous Reality

I wish cancer would just disappear forever.

I've always hated the disease, but I've never had it directly impact me as much as it is now. One of my best friends has a sister, Mary, who is battling it. I've become friends with her, too, and she is such a precious gem. She was diagnosed with cancer 15 months ago, and since then has overcome it twice.

But now it's returned with a vengeance.

And it's so frustrating, because I can't stop it. No one seems to be able to do so. Will there ever be a cure? Will we ever have comfort in knowing that someone diagnosed with cancer will be able to triumph without any doubt? Or will we forever be in this seemingly alternate universe of a waiting game...waiting for someone to be a miracle or waiting for someone to leave us?

I don't even know how to comfort my friend, either. She's so brave and trying so hard to put on her strong face and press on as best she can. But it's hard. The tears are piling up, and, every once in a while, they come streaming down like a cascade of rain drops on a worn out field.

It's so hard to face reality, but it's even harder to escape it forever.

According to the doctors and other scientific research, MareBear has a 20 to 30 percent chance of defeating the cancer this time. I've vowed to be her prayer warrior, and I'm going to be it with the most hopeful heart possible. Even though those chances are so slight, only 20 to 30 percent survival rate, I know that my God can overcome even the most slim of statistics. He is so much bigger than numbers.

I can't make cancer go away. I can't make pain vanish from my friends' lives. I can't even stop their tears from pouring out when the most unpredictable comment or incident sets off a trigger that releases the streams that won't be slowed down.

It's out of our hands.

And I think that's one of the hardest things about cancer that we face.