Wednesday, September 20, 2017 // The Statement
7B
Personal Statement:
camping against cancer
I
was given the name
Annaka in 1998 in a hos-
pital in Jackson, Mich.
In Palmer Commons
19 years later, I was renamed,
surrounded by 100 of my
tie-dye-clad best friends. To
the question “What is your
favorite childhood movie?” I
responded with “Monsters,
Inc.” As ideas were shouted
at me, I zeroed in on a sugges-
tion from the crowd: Roz. In
that moment, I stepped foot
into something that would fill
me with joy and drastically
alter the way I think about
the career in oncology that I
am pursuing.
The personal vendetta I
hold against cancer extends
far prior to my name change.
It began when I saw my
grandmother’s hair begin to
thin for the first time, falling
out in chunks until she finally
decided to shave it off and put
the scarves in her closet to a
new use. It deepened as I later
watched the fat slip from her
bones, her body becoming
skeletal and so delicate that
even hugging her is now a task
to be completed with great care. It turned
into an obsession when she became too
tired to lift her beloved paints to the
blank canvases for which she’d planned
scenes of lazy days in Ypsilanti and still-
lifes of her childhood in Escanaba.
I made enemies of the cancerous cells
within her; the woman whose impact on
my life can conservatively be referred
to as that of a third parent. A career as
an oncologist became a goal to eclipse
all others. Nights were spent reading
articles, watching documentaries and
googling unknown terms in an effort to
better understand the thing I hated so
much. Write-ups about immunotherapy
and clinical trials dominate the favorites
bar on my laptop. Dreams of patients in
complete remission dance through my
head when I sleep.
Camp Kesem allowed me to confront
illness from a different perspective.
Rather than focusing on only the dis-
ease, Kesem fights to weaken the rippling
effects that cancer has on loved ones of
those diagnosed. Camp Kesem is an orga-
nization, staffed by college students, that
provides a free week of summer camp to
children with a parent affected by cancer.
We strive to give our campers respite
from holidays spent in hospitals, talk of
treatment plans and nights spent worry-
ing about their parent’s health. This sup-
port extends throughout the rest of the
year as well — counselors attend impor-
tant events, send birthday cards and even
host camper-counselor reunions to keep
in touch with our campers (and, admit-
tedly, satiate our own camp withdrawal).
Before attending camp, I saw cancer as
a single entity — spots upon the scans of
people’s bones, breasts and lungs to be
attacked with chemotherapy and radia-
tion. I viewed the affliction as one-dimen-
sional, not taking into consideration the
children acting as caregivers to their own
parents by completing household chores,
dispensing medications, cooking meals
and looking over their younger siblings.
That quickly changed when I met my
campers.
Within minutes of meeting them, I
knew that this camp meant more to its
campers than I could have imagined. My
girls entered our cabin with huge smiles
on their faces, running excitedly into the
arms of old friends and introducing them-
selves to campers they’d never met before.
They talked about memories of camps
past and eagerly wondered about the
memories that would be made this year.
Under this year’s theme, “The Wonderful
World of Kesem,” the University of Mich-
igan’s chapter of Camp Kesem provided
260 campers with activities inspired by
superheroes, Harry Potter, pirates and
Disney movies, as well as more tradition-
al camp pastimes, like canoeing, arts and
crafts, swimming and (my personal favor-
ite) frog hunting.
I felt goosebumps dot my arms as chil-
dren as young as 6-year-olds bravely
spoke about their experiences with can-
cer, exhibiting more poise and clarity
than I possess as an adult. I laughed as my
fellow counselor Maple waded waist-deep
into a swamp so a camper could catch a
frog on his birthday. I sang and danced to
songs about jellyfish, bananas and bur-
ritos. I cried when a camper told me she
liked spending time with me because I
reminded her of her deceased father.
Camp is a place where children who feel
alone in their struggles can create life-
long bonds with other kids who
share many of the same experi-
ences, and with counselors who
truly care about them. The fun
we have and the connections we
create allow our campers to take
a week to just be kids and forget
about the troubles and responsi-
bilities that affect them at home.
Additionally,
Kesem
has
allowed me to forge friendships
with people whom I would never
have otherwise. My friends can
be found marching with the
band at football games, hitting
the lanes with the club bowl-
ing team, playing bass in rock
‘n’ roll bands, beginning careers
as teachers in places as far away
as Austria and working in sev-
eral of the University’s many
research labs. Counselors ate
ghost peppers, posted embar-
rassing pictures of themselves
and bleached their hair to raise
money for Kesem. I had friends
attend funerals, make blankets
and attend doctors appointments
for campers going through hard
times. These people have shown
me levels of love and compassion
that I would never have known
without Kesem, and have also
felt the transformative power of camp
reverberate through their lives.
When people ask about my favorite
part of attending the University, I quickly
jump to stories of kids dumping buckets of
water on their unsuspecting counselors. I
run at the opportunity to tell about the
dreamcatcher that a 6-year-old camper
made for me and delivered to me at lunch.
I tear up every time I try to articulate the
magic that breaks through the air when a
shy child opens up for the first time.
Years from now, when I’m (hopefully)
practicing as an oncologist, I’ll look back
on these days and know that I will not be
doing my job to the best of my ability if I
am not offering support to the families of
my patients. I will do everything I can to
make the treatment process understand-
able, provide access to information about
counseling services and, most important-
ly, let them know that their feelings and
emotions are being considered through-
out their loved ones’ battles. As future Dr.
Saari, I will do my best to offer the high-
est level of care possible to my patients.
As Roz, I will make sure that those closest
to my patients will never feel alone.
by Annaka Saari, LSA Sophomore