On the morning before my fourth round of chemotherapy, I told my parents that I no longer had the strength to finish the treatment; my heap of tears contained my intense longing to return to school and reunite with my friends. That day, I sat with another cancer patient: a frail, 5-year-old boy who had a tumor. Through a cloth divider, I could hear the same crying and vomiting. I had an overwhelming impulse to do something for him. Eventually, my eyes landed on the sketchbook and battered Ticonderoga pencils I had brought to the hospital.
The image came naturally to mind, as if it had already been drawn beforehand, and I finished the sketch just before taking my medications that afternoon. With bold lines, I depicted him as a valiant, inspiring champion soaring through the skies, lined with the words, “You are a superhero!” In a rush, I handed him my drawing. He was silent. I turned back around, heading to the door, when I heard his small voice.
“Thank you.”
I then had a revelation that I could give others strength with art. It was more than just a hobby; it became a desire to improve my artistic skills. During and after chemotherapy treatments, I filled pages, watched movies, and looked outside to find anything to reference in my sketchbook. My hand wouldn’t let go of the pencil, and these moments of creativity transformed dreaded days of treatment and nauseating medicine into an opportunity to project my vision onto paper.
With my newfound purpose as an artist, I continued to create pieces throughout high school. In a cramped spare room with the faint smell of turpentine, I would sketch, color, cut, glue, and paint. Pencil shavings and pastel dust littered the floor, and the compact table often forced me to work standing with my back hunched over, constantly adjusting the paper to be under the illuminated circumference of the desk lamp. But I would keep working in a trance-like state, ignoring the physical discomfort, and challenge myself to outdo my previous pieces.
Art has acted as a persistent lifeline since my remission. Through art, I now see the obscure beauty in life, such as how the reflected glare from the sun illuminates the underside of one’s face with the hue of the floor, or how a fallen branch on the street can provide the perfect composition for my next artwork. Truly, it has provided a creative and unique lens that was only curated due to my experiences with cancer.
Most importantly, art has become my key instrument to aid others. In a full circle moment, I had the opportunity to display some of my artworks at the same hospital that treated me, bringing joy and messages of hope in a space normally full of anxiety. Motivated to spread the beneficial effects of art to more people, I started a passion project, Hearts2Hands, where I made and donated 300 craft-making kits to a local orphanage. I plan to expand this to become a bigger and more organized movement as I enter the next stage of my academic career. Overall, it was through the arduous journey I faced at a young age that introduced a life-changing tool that forever changed my life, and contains the power to change many more.