The Feel-Better Book

My grandparents have lived in a whole different state for as long as I can remember, so I’ve had a lot of experience as far as missing them goes. I usually get to see them only a couple of times a year. But they ended up canceling their summer trip last month because Gran had to have knee surgery.

“It’s not fair!” whined (抱怨) my little brother, Tex. “Paul was going to take me fishing.”

“Sorry, kiddo. That’s just the way the ball bounces,” said my dad, using one of his old-fashioned sayings that all pretty much mean “Relax, because there’s nothing you can do to change this particular situation.”

“And what about the zoo?” grumbled (嘟囔) my little sister, Indi. “Gran and I were going to have a special zoo day, just the two of us!”

“There will be lots more summers for special zoo days,” said my mom. “How about, for now, we give Paul and Gran a call?”

While Tex and Indi talked on the phone, all kinds of memories started playing in my head like a movie: spotting seals from the ferryboat, riding bikes through Golden Gate Park, baking Gran’s world-famous cookies, and putting on silly magic shows with Paul. For some strange reason, those happy memories just made me unbelievably sad. I started missing my grandparents so much that I wanted to cry.

“Here you go,” my mom said, handing me the phone… “It’s your turn to talk to Paul and Gran.”

“Um, I can’t talk right now,” I told her and suddenly I was running down the hall.

“Why in the world did you run away like that?” asked my dad.

“I didn’t want to cry on the phone,” I sniffled (抽泣).

“I’m sure Gran and Paul would have understood,” he said.

“Yes, but they already have enough to worry about with Gran’s knee troubles,” I said. “I want to make Gran happy, not sad!”

“Hey, good idea!” I thought to myself and ran to my room. “I’ll make Gran a get- well-soon card. ”

I started drawing pictures of all those fun memories I was talking about earlier.

I described all the different pictures in the memory book over the telephone.

Asad was a 13-year-old boy who was very honest and hardworking. Recently, he had entered a new school, so he had no friends yet. On Monday morning, he was nearly late for school. The night before, his family attended his cousin’s wedding and reached home late, which was why he couldn’t get up on time as usual.

At school, Asad could not pay attention to anything and wanted the bell to ring so that he could buy something to eat. After a few hours, when the bell rang, Asad quickly opened his schoolbag to find his money, but just then he remembered that he had left for school in a hurry in the morning and forgotten to take money. He looked under his books, hoping to find some money but there was nothing.

Not knowing what to do, he walked out of the classroom and sat on a bench in front of the canteen. He saw a few of his classmates there, among them was Fahad. He was one of the richest kids in his class, but he was a very arrogant(傲慢的)boy who thought everyone else was a loser. But as Asad was new, he didn’t know much about Fahad.

When he went towards Fahad and asked if he could borrow some money for his lunch, Fahad laughed a lot and said, “I knew you were a loser, maybe a beggar?” Fahad laughed out so loud that other kids also heard and made fun of the situation. He didn’t answer Fahad, and slowly walked back towards an empty bench.

When he reached the bench, he noticed something lying near it. It was a wallet. He picked it up and recognized it as Fahad’s, as he remembered Fahad showing it to his friends and telling that his uncle bought it for him from the UK. There was quite a lot of money inside for a kid.

At first, Asad wanted to keep it a secret and punished Fahad.

Then Fahad said, “Why are you giving back?”

When I was told that I have a cancer, I was a 43-year-old, salad-eating, three-mile-a-day running, full-time working, all around healthy woman. I didn’t feel sick. When my doctor called with the news, I told him politely that he was wrong. He assured me he was not. Then the tests began, and I, like so many before me, surrendered my body to the process.

I decided early on that I would never be identified by this disease. Instead, I transformed myself into “The Happy Patient,” always smiling and joking with the office staff. Then my chemo（化疗）started. It was a scary process.

I figured my chemo would last the normal three to six months. At the conclusion of the first month, my husband Alan and I began to plan how we’d celebrate after my last treatment. Take a trip? Throw a party? The possibilities were exciting! Alan suggested the fantastic idea of running the Chicago Marathon. What better way to prove I was back, strong and healthy as ever?

We signed up in February. We figured I’d have just another month or two of this, with plenty of time left to train for the race in October. But the chemo appointments kept coming and my nurse told me that the chemo would conclude in 30 months. That was too long a period.

But I said to Alan, “I think we should run it anyway.” We asked my doctor for permission. I could have kissed him when he said, “Hey, if you feel like you’re up to it, knock yourself out.”

We found a park with several shady trails and immediately designated it our spot for long runs. On the days when I wasn’t feeling great, we’d just take it slow and easy. But we always finished.

I was taking back control of my body. I wasn’t sitting in a chair as a patient. I was running. My body was all mine, all to myself, and the fresh air, singing birds, and my sweet husband yelling encouragement.

It didn’t stop there. I would say to everyone that “Smile at cancer, as life goes on.”

Finally, the race day arrived.

The following Tuesday, I showed up for chemo with a medal around my neck.