I have been auditing a Spanish class this quarter, not to receive a grade but simply to learn. It has been decades since I have studied the language. We have our final exam on Thursday. It is difficult to believe that the quarter is over.
Yesterday, our final project was to be delivered. It had both a written and oral component. Orally, we were to deliver it from memory, not read it.
We were to tell a story of “Una Fiesta.” It was to be in third person, in past tense. and between two and four minutes in length, using vocabulary and concepts that we have learned these past 10 weeks.
At the last minute and with my professor’s permission, I decided to do it a little differently than what I might have first considered. I pushed myself to tell a true story. My story. So, I did not write it until Monday night, which made memorization of it more difficult, considering the words I would have to research and speak.
I began by passing out “Zebra Awareness” ribbons that I made the night before. It actually gave me some time to get comfortable. One might say it was a “stalling technique.” (There are some effective strategies that I have learned as a presenter over the years!) At the end of the speech, I passed out information sheets with symptoms, misdiagnoses, and websites for more information on Neuroendocrine Tumors (Carcinoid Cancer).
This was my first “speech” that I have delivered in Spanish. Though it was not long, and it may not have been completely understandable to the other first-year college Spanish students who had to suffer through my stumbles and less-than-perfect pronunciation, I completed it, and I was able to plant the seed of awareness for eight more people. That was as important to me as writing and speaking this message in Spanish.
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Tres meses antes, la mujer de 56 años escuchó palabras que nadie debería escuchar.
“Lo siento, pero tienes el cáncer carcinoide neuroendocrino de la Etapa 4 en todo su sistema. No hay quimioterapia ni cura.”
El doctor continuó y dijo: “Tienes seis meses o un año.”
Nada la preparaba para esas palabras. Era surrealista. Se sentía afortunada de estar, pero tenía pocas esperanzas de vivir hasta el final del año con este raro cáncer, representado por una cinta de cebra.
Ella planeó su fiesta de cumpleaños final en agosto en su restaurante italiano preferido. Ella invitó a 200 personas. Por supuesto, no todos podían estar allí, pero 40 invitados celebraron a su amiga. Una amiga, a quien no había visto en 20 años, la sorprendió volando desde California para cenar con ella.
Todos los invitados comieron ensalada, pasta y pizza. Bebieron vino. Se rieron juntos y disfrutaron de la noche.
La mujer no murió en seis meses ni en un año. Ella no murió en dos años. Esa noche fue hace más de cuatro años y medio.
Yo soy esa mujer. Soy una cebra. Y estoy viviendo CON cáncer, no muriendo de él.
¡A la vida! ¡Viva la cebra!