personal essay

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Erin Stehlik
Professor Dickerson
WRT 150-44
16 April 2015
Working Till the End
Imagine spending countless hours at the hospital waiting to hear any type of news; good
or bad; longing to know if your father will wake up from his major brain surgery. Imagine
staring out the window at the children playing on the playground next to the hospital and being
the same age as them, but having more responsibilities than most adults. Imagine being a third
grader, watching everyone you care about cry and pray as the nurses take your daddy through the
big white doors. An eerie feeling lingers in the air of the hospital waiting room as you sit with
your family and all the other sad eyed people. These types of hospital visits were regular
occurrences for me during the course of my childhood.
My dad was diagnosed with brain cancer when I was seven years old. As a third grader,
his illness was not something I could completely understand but I tried my best. My brothers and
I were sent back and forth between family members while my mom worked and spent numerous
hours with my dad at the hospital. My aunts, uncles, grandparents, and neighbors came forward
to help in any way they could. When I was allowed (I’m not sure, it just seemed more formal) to
visit my dad he always seemed normal. Other than the bandage around his head, he was still the
same person. I was often reminded that he was sick, but I had a hard time comprehending why he
needed to stay in the boring white room, connected to so many beeping computers, instead of
coming home with me. As time passed, I hoped he would come home.
Unfortunately, my dad’s cancer kept returning. I really wanted to help but there was only

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so much I could do at my age. I decided to write a letter to the American Cancer Society. It read,
"Dear American Cancer Society, My dad got brain cancer last year. I wanted to buy a ribbon to
support him, but my mom said there wasn't one. So I was hoping you could make a ribbon for
him. My daddy likes orange or blue. Thank you, Erin age 8". My aunt was so moved when she
read my letter that she took it upon herself to make my dream a reality. She had magnetic
ribbons made for me to sell. I sold hundreds of them to my friends and family; my aunt even had
to put in a second order. I raised so much money that I thought I could single handedly take
down cancer, but being so young, I couldn’t have been more naive.
Fig. 1. Letter I wrote to the American Cancer Society. Fig 2. Magnet my aunt made for me to sell.
A few years later, my family learned that my grandpa had prostate cancer and that my
dad’s brain tumors were growing again. In addition, I learned that my close friend Kelsey, a
fellow fifth grader at the time, had a cancerous tumor on her brain stem. I had not even began
middle school yet, but I was already experiencing things most people would not encounter until
they were thirty or older. I knew I had to do more to counteract this horrible disease. I had heard
about an event in my area, Relay for Life, a 24 hour walk for cancer, and decided to check out
one of the meetings. I instantly fell in love with everything about the event. At the age of twelve,
I became the youngest Relay for Life team captain in Clinton County history. I rallied up

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everyone I knew and raised as much money as I could. My first year as a team captain, my sixth
grade year, I managed to get the entire middle school involved and we raised over $14,000.
Fig. 3. My dad and grandpa at the Relay for Life.
Despite the reoccurring brain surgeries, my dad still tried to do everything a dad does. He
took my brothers and I fishing, played ball with us, and even took us to our lake house for most
of the summer. Some of the best memories I have with my dad took place at our lake house. I
vividly remember the summer before 7th grade when he taught me to water ski. My dad spent
many hours and lots of gas in our boat trying to teach me. I fell a lot and swallowed lake water a
few times. When I finally got up I could see his gleaming face from the boat. I knew he was
proud of me and that water skiing was a love we could always share.
When I look back, I have many little memories that will forever be engrained in my
memory. I remember how our freezer was always packed with hundreds of lasagnas people gave
us in attempt to help my mom. I remember my dad being too weak to walk but still insisting to
attend all of my brother’s basketball games, home and away. I remember the jungle of gifted
plants and flowers that grew on our kitchen table. I remember the bad dreams I had at night,
playing out the worst of the worst in my head. But most of all I remember how my dad would be
around his family. I remember the perfectly imperfect Stehlik family gatherings, loud and filled

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with smiles. I remember the yearly family camping trip where it almost always rained but it still
managed to be something I always looked forward to. I remember my dad’s laughter when he
would joke around with his brothers, it is a golden sound that is burned into my memory.
As I got older, I continued to participate and raise money for the Relay for Life. I spent
all year selling cinnamon rolls at school, going door to door asking my neighbors for donations,
and sending out multiple emails reminding my family when the event was. It became a passion
of mine that I worked really hard to pursue. When I was a sophomore in high school, I was
approached by one of the ladies who helped run the Relay. She invited me to join the Relay
committee, saying that they needed a connection to the high school. I accepted and began
participating at a whole new level. I was given the task of gathering high school kids to help set
up for the Relay event. I hung up posters, worked with the administration, and signed up
numerous volunteers from my school. I set goals, helped prepare, and loved every second of
what I was doing. I felt that I was really starting to make an impact.
Junior year of high school is normally filled with college applications, ACT preparation,
and picking out prom attire. My year played out a little differently than I had expected. On the
first day of the school year my dad had his fifth brain surgery, but this time it seemed to affect
him differently. He did not seem to bounce back like he had in the past. My once cheery father
was now worn down and weary. My mom worked hard to keep him comfortable and keep
everyone else happy but it was clear she was struggling as well. From then on I volunteered to
drive my brothers to and from practice, purchase all the groceries for each week, clean and cook
and put in extra help anywhere that I could. As the months went on, things seemed to continue to
get worse and everyone in our house was clearly exhausted.
Soon my dad was too weak to walk and had to use a wheel chair. A bunch of my

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grandpa’s old friends got together and built a ramp for our house so that my dad could travel.
Kindnesses such as these kept my family from falling apart. The last time my dad went to his
doctor for an appointment felt like the worst day of the entire journey. She told my dad that there
was nothing more she could do to help him, and at that moment my dad lost all the hope he had
left. I clearly remember sitting at the kitchen table with my mom, brothers, and the nurse that
visited our house regularly. When she finally got to the main point of our meeting, my heart
broke, my dad was going to be placed on hospice care. Shortly after, a hospital bed was placed in
our living room and everything that happened after seems to be a blur. My aunts and uncles took
turns staying at our house to help my dad while my mom was at work and my brothers and I
were at school. Everyone offered up their prayers and condolences no matter if they knew us or
not.
Unfortunately, on April 13th, 2013, my number one inspiration for beating cancer, my
dad, passed away. He fought brain cancer for nine long years but grew tired. As heartbroken as I
was, I knew I couldn’t stop fighting. Cancer does not only affect me, it affects everyone. My dad
was one of my biggest supporters, and I knew he would want me to continue so that someday no
one else will have to lose their family to this horrible disease like I did.
I began to do research on colleges and degrees trying to figure out what the rest of my life
could be. I decided that I wanted to get a degree in Public Relations with the hopes of someday
working for the American Cancer Society. I want my future to be filled with raising money,
advocating, and working step by step to be a part of the end of cancer. It is something I love, and
I hope to make a career out of it.
I am proud to say that I was approached by a member of the student council from my
former high school and was asked to come home to give a speech on Relay for Life and the story

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of how I became involved. Seeing as it was an amazing opportunity and something I have always
dreamed of doing, I accepted the offer. I was excited to be able to share my story and advocate to
my home town. On January 23rd
, I gave my speech to a gym full of people during the half time of
the basketball game. I proudly told them about my dad, and how our family’s journey has
inspired me. I was applauded three different times during the course of my speech and my mom
cried for the entirety. I am delighted to have had the opportunity to tell my real life story. Lots of
people in my community know about parts of my family’s situation but most do not know the
complete version. I had so many people come up and tell me how astonished they were and how
impressed they were with what I had to say. When it was all over I took a deep breath and just
smiled. I could picture my dad’s proud gleaming smile, just like the one I received the day he
taught me to water ski, and I knew I had just done something good. Hopefully more
opportunities will come my way such as this one so that I can spend my life working to make
things better for the world. My dad will forever remain my ignition for working hard to beat
cancer and I know he is rooting for me to succeed all the way from heaven.
Fig. 4. My dad and I at my cousin’s wedding