A Roller Coaster Life: Road to the Stanley Cup

My mom, sisters, and I stood outside the wooden back door of a place I loved going to no matter what day of the week: my grandparents' house.

I placed my backpack on the ground, remembering when I was much younger. My grandfather would pick me up from school and, sometimes after running a few errands, head back to his house, where my grandmother would be waiting for us. As the years went by, my sisters and cousins joined the family. Soon enough, Sophie and Tyler were going to the same school as I was.

My grandfather picked all three of us up from school, and we would all be doing homework or helping out with our sisters (Sophie and I had Caylee; Tyler had Laura). Just three years ago, my grandfather had been diagnosed with colon cancer. When I first found out, I was beyond heartbroken. Hearing about how horrible the disease can be was bad enough; knowing that cancer reached my grandfather made it worse.

I remembered how I would go to his chemo sessions in the summer, after his first surgery to remove a tumor--getting the treatment, going home with him having the pump for the medicine, returning the pump to the oncologists and back again--and wanting to cry every time. I hated seeing him getting slightly weaker and weaker from the treatment, and I wanted more than anything for it to disappear (obviously, there was nothing I could do to take that away from him).

My grandfather also had some radiation treatment, but I only made it to one treatment. That one was a little more frightening, and I was just sitting in a nearby waiting room, listening to the loud beeping and scanning of the surely large machine just beyond the swinging double doors.

Then the news came that the cancer was gone. Everyone in my family celebrated, even though it was filled with plenty of tears. Happy tears.

If only it had stayed away. A normal year passed the news of the absence of his cancer. Nothing abnormal, nothing suspicious. However, it was discovered that the cancer was back, was spreading, and was aggressive.

Now, my grandfather is beginning his second round of treatment. He's been very diligent so far; the treatment may have gotten stronger, but he's still holding up very well.

Keys rattling from inside the house captured my attention, and I see the door open. My grandmother stood on the other side, happy to see us. My mom, sisters, and I greeted her and followed her inside the house. We put our things down and talk some more to her. After a few minutes, my sisters ran off to watch TV, and I walked down the hallway to my grandfather's room.

My grandfather sat in his computer chair, playing Spider Solitaire. He looked good today, I observed, wondering what exactly was going through his mind.

He turned to look at who came in the room, and he smiled when he saw me.

"Hi abuelito. How are you?"

"I'm doing better, thank you. How are you, m'hija? How's school," he said as I kissed his cheek in greeting.

"I'm good. I love school! I can't believe it's almost over."

"I know! Are you going to watch the Blackhawks game with me later?"

"Of course! I'm so excited," I replied just as my mother called me. I looked at my grandfather, who said, "Go ahead. She might need your help." Nodding, I made my way to the kitchen. My mom asked me, "Were you just with grandpa?"

I suddenly was choked up, tears lining my eyes. Shaking my head 'yes', I walked into the living room. As much as I knew how devastating cancer was, I wanted to keep a positive mindset. I hated it when my mom and aunt said that there was a chance that he was going to...die.

It made me feel like they were already giving up.

And clearly, my grandfather had not, since he was still putting himself through the treatment.

Wiping the burning tears away, I composed myself and turned on the TV. Until my grandfather came to the living room, I would do some homework. The game had not started, so I had time.

After completing a few problems of geometry, I heard the wheels of my grandfather's desk chair rolling slowly down the hallway. His walk was improving, I noticed with a tearful smile. It took him just about a minute to get himself to the living room and get comfortable.

"Alex, who's your favorite player?"

"The goalie, Niemi," I answered proudly. I animatedly told him about the game that happened before, and he held a weak but true smile the entire time.

"You think the Hawks are going to win, grandpa?"

"I know so!"