After about an hour of being at my grandma’s house, my mom and I headed out to Fresno with my grandmother, Mema, and my great grandmother, Gigi. We did not get to the hospital until around eight o’clock that night, even though they were expecting us around four. I took my time packing, and I told my mom to take her time driving because I really did not want to go there. I did not want to have a biopsy; I did not want those words to be revealed to me, notifying me “You have cancer.”

Once we got to my room in Cray Croft, the oncology inpatient hospital, we settled in, unpacked, and tried to calm our nerves a little. It was not until long after that the oncologist came with about four other doctors that I don’t even remember. He told me that I would not be able to have my biopsy done that night because it was so late. We then discussed everything there was to know about Hodgkin’s Lymphoma and what I am going to go through if my tumor is not malignant. I was not emotional at all, until he said that I probably would not be able to dance or tryout for cheer for my senior year,”What about my life?” I thought to myself. How am I supposed to be a normal teenager?