I have a cousin, one year younger than me and growing up we would hang out all the time because he lived next door to me and we’ve always been close. He is a brother, best friend, and cousin to me all in one. We would share food, share the same music, and play games together all the time.

I was fifteen years old when, one night, I was eating at the dinner table and when I got a call from my grandmother saying my cousin had leukemia. I wasn’t sure what that was at the time and I thought it was some simple sickness that you can cure. My sister explained to me what it was and my mom broke down in tears. I couldn’t believe it. I too was shocked, too hurt to even cry. I just sat at the dinner table and watched my whole family cry. They looked at me in confusion because I was staring at them with a straight face at the dinner table.

In the days after finding out, It was hard to eat because of how worried I was. My aunt informed us that my cousin was going to the hospital to start medications and chemotherapy.

I went to see him at the hospital. I felt scared to even say a word. I couldn’t think of anything to say. All my family was there, all staring at me. They knew me and my cousin were close, and they didn’t understand why I was so hesitant to speak to him. The truth was that it hurt me to even talk to him. My family told me it is going to take two years for his treatment. I knew what chemotherapy can do to a person, especially to a person who is young, and I was frightened. Finally I tried to come up with things to say to my cousin to distract us from the fact that this was all true and he really was sick. We laughed and we talked about entertaining games we usually talk about. It really brightened up the moment in the room. But leaving the room our whole family still felt worried about what may happen next.

Months went by, he started his chemo treatment. I barely talked to him. He was always in the hospital and around doctors. Then one day I got a call saying he was rushed to the ICU. It felt like a repeated cycle from when they first told me he had cancer. But he was unable to speak, breathe on his own, barely move a muscle. It was spring 2020 and we had just gone into lock-down for COVID-19 and the hospital wasn’t letting in any other family members besides his mom and his sister.

I beat myself up. I felt I should've spoken to him earlier, when he was able to speak in the hospital. I thought I should’ve tried harder to at least speak to him because I’m also his best friend and I should've spent more time with him and kept him company. I felt guilty about it to the point where I couldn’t even bring myself to talk to any of my friends for five months straight. I just didn’t feel like myself. A huge part of me felt very uneasy. I became moody and angry all the time.

Weeks later I got another call telling me he was doing very well, and that he was getting better week by week. I always asked my aunt how he was doing because she was always in the hospital with him. I felt so relieved. From that time on, all I heard was good news about him and how he was getting better.

My cousin is now one year cancer free. I realize now how big an impact he has on my life. Being able to continue spending time with my cousin means a lot to me.

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