As I put the hospital gown on, it went down to my knees. I had to ask the nurse to help me tie the back as I sat on the hospital bed. I was shaking, my nerves were freaking out, and my stomach felt like a volcano was erupting. 

       It all started when I was younger. My mom experienced the same horrible journey of an undiagnosed illness. The kind of sickness that swoops in and dismantles all one's plans. She was battling an internal monster. I had no clue what happened when I was a kid. All the memories shut down like when you are in the middle of a thunderstorm and the house powers suddenly turn off. That internal monster was named cancer. This internal monster went from her colon to other places in her body. Destroying her. Taking not only her smile but her life. I was reminded that she loved me, how I looked exactly like her, that she was talented and beautiful. But no one explained what exactly had gone wrong. Until I was 16.  

Over the years, stomach problems have made me hide in school bathrooms, they have dragged me in and out of doctors' offices, and had me accused of faking it for attention. But this appearance of my gut’s trouble was a demon.       

It felt like someone was stabbing me every second of the day. I wouldn't be able to get up because I would fall to the ground screaming for it to stop. 

Another big issue was I wasn't eating. No matter how hungry I would be when an ounce of food entered my stomach I would throw up. No one seemed to notice. How could no one notice that I would be in the bathroom for hours or how I would stay in my room until dinner time. I lost over 10-20ish pounds in under a couple of months. I felt like sitting in the middle of no- where hiding while a big thunder blocked out my scream.

The only thing I remember was my family saying how I was faking it for attention. Are you that blind to see that I was hurting? Every day was painful, I wanted to punch a wall. How could I fake something that could be so serious? As they told me, maybe it's just the food you eat, keep a food log. So I did.

I figured it wouldn't help. I'll be honest, It did kinda help. This stupid food log would help me for my doctors' appointment that was scheduled for the upcoming weeks 

I never felt more uncomfortable with my life. 

After the gastro visit, I was told I have to get a colonoscopy. 

I was not amused to be told that for my colonoscopy the next day I could only ingest jello and juice. I was handed two small pink pills that looked like nerd candies. Along with this gallon-sized poison called Lime Gatorade that was infused with this powder called laxatives. Good thing was that the poison smelled good and you couldn't taste the powder laxatives. Although whenever I would take a sip, I felt like there was a clear coat of film on my teeth, leaving me disgusted. 

       I chugged the rest of the bright yellow poison, which had more than half left. After it was finished I went into my room to finish crying until I passed out. My body didn't want me to sleep as my gut hated me.

The day of the procedure, the car ride sucked. God, I hate waking up at 5 in the morning and better yet having to deal with those stupid New York Drivers. 

 At the hospital, the nurse told me to step on the weight and then handed me a hospital gown. My anxiety increased. After Struggling to get that huge nightgown on, I sat back on the hospital bed as another nurse came in to put an IV in. The IV made sure I was well hydrated for the procedure. 

Text message after text message reminding me to stay strong. 

My Doctor finally knocked into the door to see if I was ready for the procedure. As they rolled me into the room my heart rate increased. Like I was running away from a monster in the woods. As those stupid words came into my head. 

I followed the direction that my doctors gave me. Such as putting this tube in my mouth, the oxygen mask, and even that red clip that went on the pointer finger. They noticed a huge difference in my heart rate, so they told me to breathe as they put this clear liquid to calm me down. Finally, they inserted this white-yellowish liquid called amnesia. But before I passed out I managed to say a few words. “Woah I can feel…” 

A week after the procedure,  It was time to figure out what was going on. I was outside for a half-hour waiting for my parents to let me in to hear the news. Right, when I entered my house I knew something was wrong. 

I had a genetic mutation called Familial Adenomatous polyposis.  As the doctor was explaining it, I felt like my head was underwater. I couldn't understand what she was saying. All I remember was “Don't worry, we promise you won't ever get as sick as your mother”. As she said that my vision went blurry. Trying to hold back my tears. I hated crying in front of my parents, I always remember when I started to cry everyone else would cry. I wanted to be strong.

 I look over to my left to see my stepmom who seemed to have emotions for once. She looked like she was about to cry, or maybe she was surprised to find out I was right. I turned my head to the right and I saw my father, he looked like Casper the ghost. I knew that his heart was shattered. He's been through so much, I don't understand how he can deal with this. Between my mother and I. It feels like we're the same person. My stepmom left and I asked my father if I could miss color guard practice because I felt heartbroken. I didn't understand, nor could I comprehend it. 

My father dragged me outside. The only thing I wanted to do was cry myself to sleep. He asked how I felt, for once I was honest. I wanted to scream. As tears began to crawl down my pale skin. I knew it wasn't my fault but everyone tried to blame me. I never hugged my father but for once he hugged me crying, saying how he never wanted this for me, he never wanted to experience what had happened with my mother. 

The genetic mutation might not seem serious, but it was. It causes cancer.  Their only way to help prevent/ reduce the risk is through surgery. I'm still lost on what to do. How to feel. 

A month later I told the rest of my family. I called my sister from college, called whoever was home to the dining room table. My step sister disrespected me and left the table, too busy looking up college crap. The only one who cared was Hailey, my older sister who was at college. She texted me later that night saying how she wished she had it, that she loves me, and to stay strong. I appreciated it, I’ve never cried so much over a text message like this before. Although telling my family was the worst mistake I've ever made. I didn't want them worried, and sometimes they would say snarky comments that were hurtful but instead of being sad, I would tell them you better watch it. I was given this because I was the stronger one in the family. The only one who would be able to handle it.

 Throughout the past couple of months, I was doing good. I managed to get declassified for my IEP, the past three marking periods I’ve had a high honor roll, I made better life choices such as the people I hang out with.  I've become stronger mentally and physically. My attitude changed, I wasn't as negative and as used to be. I saw more to life than I used to, I've become grateful for the small things, trying and teaching myself new things. Such as teaching myself rifle for next year's Colorguard, playing piano, and ukulele. My instructor for guard told me I might become captain for the following year. I started to gain weight and confidence, I didn't care about people's dumb opinions, & I especially didn't care about the negative comments people were saying on social media. I knew the only reason why I thought badly about myself was that I let those negative comments into my head. My friends, dad, teachers, and coaches all noticed a change. I felt good and it only made me want to try harder. 

April 30th, 2021 I will have my first appointment with my specialist at CHOP (Children Hospital of Philadelphia). I'm not scared, or nervous. I know that there is nothing to be afraid of, the doctors promised to help me, to never let me get as bad as my mother. This was just a new beginning. I never saw my life as being perfect, but I also don't see it as being terrible. I experience things other children my age didn't. But yet it made me stronger than them. By the end of my appointment, a researcher came in asking if I wanted to be part of their new study. The study of polyposis genetics and to help millions of other people's lives. I had to say yes, and I do not regret my decision.

As I put the hospital gown on, this time it didn't go past my knees, it fit just perfectly. This feeling that I’ve never felt. Understanding I was guarded, protected from this internal demon. Reassuring me I was gonna be more than okay.