Facing the Test of Cancer--and Passing.

• Author: JAYNES, TIFFANY
• Position: Health - Brief Article

VAN, TEXAS--As I sit in the doctor's office, I look at my gray gym shirt. It has my number, 14, on it. Then I look at my dad. He's so solemn. I know he would like to be anywhere but here.

I feel the same way. I thought it was just tendinitis. Nothing big. All future Olympic track stars push their bodies and endure a certain amount of pain. One day I'm preparing for a race, the next I'm feeling pain in my knee.

The doctor walks in. His coat is pressed, not a wrinkle on it. He sits down and says, "You have a bone disease. A tumor in your knee is osteogenic sarcoma. It's cancer."

All the color drains from my face. How could this be? I'm never sick. I can't have cancer--I'm only 15. I look back at my dad. His eyes are red, like when you've been crying and are trying to hide it. He wants to be brave for me.

So do I. The doctor says with chemotherapy, I might lose my hair. I tell him, "I've always wanted to shave my head!" I think I surprise him. He says that after the chemo, instead of amputation, I'll have knee-replacement surgery. I ask him the one question burning in me: "Will I be able to run again?"

The silence is chilling. I know the answer already. "No," he says with genuine regret. The constant pressure of running would be too much for my leg and might wear out the artificial knee. So the rigorous workouts of an Olympian are out of the question. My whole world stops. What am I to do now? Then it hits me: This is a test--I will pass.

Three years and 11 surgeries later, the cancer is in remission...