Donations
During my research process I couldn't help noticing how many people suffering from cancer are in need of donations. If you are interested in donating here are a few cites to organizations you can donate to.
It's weird how someone life can change with one simple sentence, "You have cancer." A world as imperfect as it might have seemed may feel like it's taken away in a second. As a teenager I find it hard to sometimes appreciate the things or moments I have or experience. I came into this project trying to understand what it would be like to have cancer from the perspective of a patient. Along the way I found that fighting cancer goes more beyond then the mind of the patient, but that there's an entire community from the researchers, to the doctors, to the patient's family. Each group as the responsibility to be there for the sake of the patient.
Love and happiness can move mountains |
Hope is the only thing stronger than fear ~ Robert Ludlum |
ART
For art I got my inspiration from the book "Regine's Book : A teen girl's last words" by Regine Stokke. The book is a collection of her blog posts during her battle with cancer. When I read her book I got the inspiration for a art project, I took her desperation, her emotions and turned it into art.
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The box an enclosed space in meant to show the feeling of being trapped. The feeling many cancer patients have during treatment is a feeling of never getting out, out of their terrible situations. Being treated or waiting for a cure and seeing no results can be tiring. The words within the box are words I pulled out from the book. Words that fill the minds of the patients and many times consumes them. Words like broken, fear, death, life, hope, fight. The figure in the center a 3d print of myself is meant to demonstrate a regular teenager. The innocent and ignorant part of society who lives their days being unappreciative of what they have. Regine remembers herself as typical teenager hating the life she had but never doing anything about it.
HISTORY
For my history piece I did research on the treatments that would have taken place during the 1940's and filled out a diagnosis form making sure to follow the procedures that corresponded to the time period. For this portion of my project I wanted to look at it from the perspective of the doctor and how a doctor would deal and phrase certain things.
ENGLISH
For english I took upon my self to look and research from a variety of resources and created a conclusion to answer my self made question "What does a cancer patient go through in order to be willing to fight?"
Literary Comparison and Analysis
Poem Analysis
By: Miriam Stone
My thoughts in this color
Mellow guitar floats through the air
like an aroma,
the flames of the candle stretch
skyward.
I huddle under my down comforter
and feel its weight sink onto me
like the weight of each day
Family and support systems take on mental weight of the pain and fear of the unknown.
I wake aching,
deflated,
wishing for night’s cool fingers
to soothe me
back to sleep,
Like the comforting love of a mother that is now gone and replaced with an empty hollow of a ghost that was once there.
instead feeling the hot
breath of dawn
on my neck,
my alarm clock cackling
She stays up during the night hoping to feel her mom's presence, the pain and sadness overwhelms her sleep.
But you take each morning
like a holiday.
Her mom would treat each and every day as if it were her last, she’d enjoy her every minute with her family.
You rise to the occasion,
you sip your morning coffee
an your bathrobe
and flash your lightning smile.
The author remembers her mother as a happy cheerful women → almost sounds like a normal healthy mother.
We drag our feet to the door.
The weight of reality taking a plunge into their lives.
I envy your love of waking.
It's hard for her to understand her mother MUST enjoy the rest of her days, rather than sit in sadness. The author reveals she’s angry with her mother for leaving her, even though it’s not her fault. Also she wrote this before her mother had passed away and yet you can still feel a little resentment.
Car headlights
cut through cool fog at the rush hour --
life to you --
Personally I would think that being sick can be boring and “rush hour” as she describes it must be entertaining for her mother to watch.
the scent of coffee brewing
and the swishing of the plastic
off the morning paper
chant
fight fight fight.
The day stretches and pulls you
but you never break.
The strength of a fighter → The strength of a mother
Light, life, love,
strength, the will to live
enhanced at each dawn.
They all wait to see her up the next day, and hope to never see the day otherwise happens.
Nighttime creeps in.
I plead for sleep so I can escape.
Restless nights becomes a normal, a daughter pleas for change
You sleep dutifully,
resting the forces,
Inner strength to keep fighting
rearm reorganize reunite
prepare for tomorrow's breaking of light
over the horizon
like a child being born.
A child's birth is celebrated, her mother awakes and she’s hopeful
You didn’t just battle
to gain a little more,
you exploded with strength
and went to war.
Rhymes
Throughout the book the author shares HER pain and suffering, this last sentence lets us see, as a daughter her pride and love towards her mother that she disguises among her writing
My thoughts in this color
Mellow guitar floats through the air
like an aroma,
the flames of the candle stretch
skyward.
I huddle under my down comforter
and feel its weight sink onto me
like the weight of each day
Family and support systems take on mental weight of the pain and fear of the unknown.
I wake aching,
deflated,
wishing for night’s cool fingers
to soothe me
back to sleep,
Like the comforting love of a mother that is now gone and replaced with an empty hollow of a ghost that was once there.
instead feeling the hot
breath of dawn
on my neck,
my alarm clock cackling
She stays up during the night hoping to feel her mom's presence, the pain and sadness overwhelms her sleep.
But you take each morning
like a holiday.
Her mom would treat each and every day as if it were her last, she’d enjoy her every minute with her family.
You rise to the occasion,
you sip your morning coffee
an your bathrobe
and flash your lightning smile.
The author remembers her mother as a happy cheerful women → almost sounds like a normal healthy mother.
We drag our feet to the door.
The weight of reality taking a plunge into their lives.
I envy your love of waking.
It's hard for her to understand her mother MUST enjoy the rest of her days, rather than sit in sadness. The author reveals she’s angry with her mother for leaving her, even though it’s not her fault. Also she wrote this before her mother had passed away and yet you can still feel a little resentment.
Car headlights
cut through cool fog at the rush hour --
life to you --
Personally I would think that being sick can be boring and “rush hour” as she describes it must be entertaining for her mother to watch.
the scent of coffee brewing
and the swishing of the plastic
off the morning paper
chant
fight fight fight.
The day stretches and pulls you
but you never break.
The strength of a fighter → The strength of a mother
Light, life, love,
strength, the will to live
enhanced at each dawn.
They all wait to see her up the next day, and hope to never see the day otherwise happens.
Nighttime creeps in.
I plead for sleep so I can escape.
Restless nights becomes a normal, a daughter pleas for change
You sleep dutifully,
resting the forces,
Inner strength to keep fighting
rearm reorganize reunite
prepare for tomorrow's breaking of light
over the horizon
like a child being born.
A child's birth is celebrated, her mother awakes and she’s hopeful
You didn’t just battle
to gain a little more,
you exploded with strength
and went to war.
Rhymes
Throughout the book the author shares HER pain and suffering, this last sentence lets us see, as a daughter her pride and love towards her mother that she disguises among her writing
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