Anna Khromova
Period 3
Finding my inner voice
My voice, not in a million years I imagined myself being in the hospital because I'm losing the
ability to speak but not because I have been screaming or because I got sick, the reason I have
difficulties speaking is because I somehow had a stroke that my brain tumor caused.
Would I be called crazy if I told someone that in some way, I'm quite happy I had a stroke and
before you believe I am crazy visualize if I never had a stroke and never found out about the
tumor that can kill me, I would have died without no one knowing why, but now that we know
what's happening to me the doctors can fix it hopefully well after all that is what my mom makes
me believe but I do know that is not true, when you have no money or no father how could you
pay for your medications or your appointments to stay alive well you can't and my mom cant
either.
I've been in this hospital for 3 days already and I haven't allowed any of my friends to visit me,
well but who would when you were in class while you had a stroke, and everyone is looking at
you, maybe even some kids took pictures of you because you’ve been the weird and nerd kid for
all your high school life to the point where the normal kids didn’t even know I existed.
They are all looking at me, two doctors and four nurses they are talking to me about something
but I'm not listening I just remember one thing the doctor told me, he told me I would not be able
to speak normally ever again maybe he was just overreacting or maybe it is true. I won't be able
to speak again and never get to go back to school and finish my last year of high school I
probably won't ever live a normal life, or I'll never find a husband that would love me even if I
can't speak, maybe after all I won't live like I used to.
It's been one month since I was diagnosed with brain tumor and since then I've been taking
therapy and I haven't gone to school yet; my mom has been paying all my medications and
therapy sessions she would not the me how she's doing it but I'm grateful I have a chance to live
a little longer at least. I think I only trust my therapist she has been the most honest person with
me. She tells me there is a chance I will die but there is a chance I will live and that’s what I
believe right now. I communicate with my therapist in a distinct way. We use art and poems to
talk, I draw and write to her what I'm feeling.
I'm free, I have been struggling with a brain tumor for one year and I'm finally free. I finally can
live how I used to, of course I can't speak as I used to but I'm finally able to wake up every day
without worrying if this is my last day on earth. Also, I never went back to school. I think it was
going to be too hard for me and my mom, but I graduated and I'm going to study at Harvard in
less than 5 months. I'm finally happy and I finally found my inner voice thought art and poems.