I distinctly recall my parents sitting next to my post-surgery, inpatient cot on the sixth floor of the children’s hospital when I learned what was going on. Deanna’s party had already taken place. I was going to need a lot of medicine, including stuff called chemotherapy and radiation. But, on the flip side, this would mean a lot of sick days from school! And this was probably a good thing, because I was going to lose my hair. Excuse me, what?

It was a lot to take in.

But I was not alone. While my parents, siblings, and I adjusted to our new reality, we had an abundance of support from family, friends, and our community. We never forgot the compassion shown to us during that time. From meals, visits, school pickups, and gifts, we received a lifetime quota of love thanks to cancer choosing me. I will admit, however, that for a confident teenage girl, I recoiled from the pity and attention directed my way. I like gifts as much as the next person, but the only one I truly wanted was to be “normal” and get well.

Unfortunately there is no get-well guidebook that comes with a cancer diagnosis. There is generally a goal (eliminate cancer), and related treatment plan for the patient, but it seems to be missing fine print about the side effects on the body and mind. We all just learn as we go, and do the best we can.

The best gift I received during this time was from my parents, who did everything in their power to help me get well. Among other roles, my mom became my nurse, manager, punching bag, chauffeur, accountant, and publicist. My dad worked hard to make ends meet and control chaos at home. Fifteen months of treatment probably seemed like a lifetime for my whole family, including my siblings, who must have felt like they were sitting the bench in my big game. But it was one I never wanted to play. I can never repay them for giving up so much of themselves in the process of caring for me. Looking back, I wish the gifts I received could have helped my loved ones get well, too.