The minute the two automatic doors fly open left and right there must have been four hundred knots in my stomach. Unless you’re about to dress a newborn in a pink or blue onesie nobody likes to visit the hospital, especially when you’re on the cancer wing of one of the top hospitals in the country. But there’s still hope for my father. The same amount of hope as there is for the runner who breaks his ankle the day before the half marathon.

My mom and I enter room 271 on the third floor of the cancer center at John Hopkins University hospital where my dad has been staying and getting treated for lymphoma cancer for the past three weeks. Even though I’ve seen my dad almost every day since he’s been in the hospital it’s still hard to see his bruised body plugged into several machines and his struggle to keep his bloodshot eyes open. But I’m thankful that he can still smile and keep a conversation going. His farmers tan, thick workman’s arms and freckled face are still there to remind me that my dad is still the same.

After an exchange of hello’s, hugs and kisses between the three of us, my mom gets dinner from the cafeteria and my dad I and chat about everything from his old nurse who always called him Braid instead of Brad, to how the stress of exam week caused me to put my shirt on backwards and miss my bus this morning. We eat our spaghetti and meatballs together on yellow lunch trays and play three rounds of Rummikub and before I would like to, it’s time for my mom and I to go home for the night. I told my dad that I might not be back until Saturday because of how much more I had to study for exams.

“That’s alright, sweetheart. You know I’d rather have you study and work hard than watch me lose another game of Rummikub to you,” he said.

“Thanks, Dad. I’ll be sure to update you on how badly my Spanish exam went, and I want to hear all about your thoughts on the season finale of “Game of Thrones” when you get to it.”

“I can’t wait! Hey, I read an article today that said sucking on mints and chewing gum can help you focus in class and on exams” he says as he hands me a bag of wintergreen lifesavers that he talked the nurse into getting them for him this morning.


“I love you Dad. See you Saturday!”

After my Spanish exam the next morning as I’m walking to lunch, my name is called over the all school loud speaker to go to the guidance counselor’s office immediately. My mom was sitting in one of the nude swivel chairs in guidance counselor’s office with a blushed face and glossy, teary eyes. She didn’t even need to say anything for me to know what was going on because the only other time I’ve seen her cry was when our thirteen-year-old cat died four years ago, and I’m not sure if that’s because I’ve never been close to my mom or because she’s just got really thick skin, but either way I just knew. Sixteen years wasn’t enough time to spend with my dad but it was enough time to for me to gain his hard work ethic and perseverance.

The rest of high school there might as well have been steam lifting from my skull and tissues glued to my cheekbones. Part of me was furious at my dad for rarely going to the doctor’s office because when he finally went for the first time in ten years two months before his dealth, it was pretty late. However, I had to learn to let go of the ‘what if’s’ and start planning for college as the national candidates reply deadline was a week away and I was torn between pre-med at Colombia University, community college and a part-time job, or Maryland Beauty Academy School of Cosmetology. The thought of going to Colombia makes my heart drop to the floor and my whole body fill with dark, gloomy clouds. Colombia was just one of many things that I couldn’t bear to think about or do anymore because of the memories of my dad attached to it, like riding my bike in the park or making predictions of the first snow fall of the year. But if I was going away to college freshman year than I was going to go to Columbia, so if I didn’t then community college seemed like the place to take a breather and figure it all out.

Anybody with a dream of becoming a doctor and an acceptance to an Ivy League school probably wouldn’t even think twice about sending in an enrollment deposit, but not me. Neither of my parents went to college; my dad was a construction worker and my mom owns a beauty shop, and I always have that to fall back on, so for me to go to college was a big deal. Ever since I was a little girl I loved school, especially math and science. For Christmas I used to ask for multiplication flash cards and at-home chemistry experiments. On weekends I used to pretend my stuffed animals were my sick patients, putting ice-bags on their heads and wrapping their “broken” arms and legs in colored duct tape. If I ever struggled in a subject my dad would hire me a tutor. Every night he made sure I got my homework done before I watched any TV. Even sometimes more than I wanted to, my dad really wanted me to do well in school, go to college and pursue my dream of becoming a doctor.

Although my whole life I worked so hard in school to get good grades, joined several clubs, did endless of community service, and took every AP and honors class offered so I could get into a good college, go to medical school and become a doctor, but my heart still sunk every time I thought about. Whenever I thought about going to Columbia before my dad died it seemed so sensational, having him come up to watch a game with me or to vent to about the three-hour-long labs that were awaiting me. It seemed like going to Columbia without my dad around just wasn’t going to be the same and too different to image.

Several pro’s and con’s lists of each option and sleepless nights later I made the decision to defer my acceptance to Columbia for a year. My plan was to take some general education courses and get a part-time job for the year, then transfer to Columbia the following fall for pre-med. First step-get a job. I’ve always had a love for animals but never had the opportunity to own one except a turtle and some fish because of my mom’s allergies. Almost all of my community service hours were filled doing volunteer work at the SPCA and every opportunity I got to go over the neighbor’s house I took so I could play with their two cats and three dogs. During the summer, I offered to walk and take care of all my families, friends’ and neighbors’ pets. I hung up a flyer that read “Dog Walking & pet watching, Call Ellie at 410-344-82” around on bulletin boards in almost every local coffee shop and grocery store. Although brushing cats and giving treats to dogs wasn’t all I wanted it to be, it paid for gas and it kept me busy to keep my mind off of my dad.

Once fall rolled around I continued to work hard in school in all my classes at the community college, few kids that I was surrounded by had the same attitude towards their education as I did. My lab partner for chemistry only showed up to class two times throughout the whole semester session but continued to email me and ask me for the results every week. In the cafeteria, every time I sat down at a table and tried to get to know people, I either would get silent stares or very minimal answers and unfriendly vibes. My history professor only faced the class to turn on the projector or to hand out papers, and the rest of the time his back was faced towards us while he wrote sloppy notes on the whiteboard. It came to the point where I actually found myself enjoying picking up dog poop more than going to my really easy math class. I was on the phone with Maryland Beauty Academy of Cosmetology before my first exam even started.

I still wasn’t sure if beauty school was the right fit for me, but I still I wanted it more than I wanted to go to Columbia. Suddenly even now more than ever the thought of caring for ill people brought up the hospital smell I would sniff every visit to my dad. But making people feel more confident or giving someone a new look started appealing to me more and more. Unfortunately, just about the exact opposite ended up happening. In just one month of beauty school I managed to break probably over ten bottles of nail polish, dye brown a wig that was supposed to be red brown, and drop almost every piece of makeup I touched, either making it crack or shatter.

After a let-down semester at community college and a failed one at beauty school, it seemed like pre-med at Columbia was calling my name, but it still didn’t feel right for me. It seemed like fate was telling me to listen to my dad to follow my initial dream since nothing else was working out in my favor, but my heart was screaming try another new thing, keep trying until you find something you can settle in with and be happy. As much as my mom liked having me around at home still, she was tired of watching me fail at things that were only ways of avoiding facing the painful but exciting reality of going to Columbia. My mom was right and although I never expected to have to look past grief to get to Columbia, I had to make it part of the plan and give Columbia a shot again. So, I decided to make an appointment with my admissions counselor at Columbia to discuss my gap year and what path I would and wouldn’t be making in the fall at the University. I hoped that if I visited one more time and talked with her that I would have a pretty good idea of what my future plans would be.

A few weeks later at the beginning of August I was in line at the main desk in the Columbia admissions office and as the the short, buff guy in front of me thanked the receptionist and gathered the papers in front of him together, he asked if the small bowl of lifesavers on the desk were wintergreen or spearmint.

“Wintergreen. Take a few and good luck in your interview,” said the middle-aged women with bleached blonde hair in a blue floral shirt.

“How may I help you today miss?” she asks me as the man walks away.

I approach the desk and tell the lady that Ellie Goldberg is here for her meeting with Jane Eckard. As she’s checking me, in I stare at the small blue and white striped, bowl that’s holding the twenty-or-so wintergreen Lifesavers and take a handful to put in my back pant pocket.

“You can take a seat right over there Ellie, and Jane will be with you in just a few moments,” the receptionist says as she points to the couch where my mom has her head in a magazine and is sipping on a cup of coffee from the Keurig machine in the corner.

“Thank you very much,” I say, heading towards the blue sofa my mom’s sitting at and unwrapping one of my Lifesavers.

I place the Lifesaver on my tongue, close my mouth and sit down on the sofa with my mom. As the mint is melting in my mouth, my eyes automatically close and memories of my dad’s raspy but loving voice and countless Rummikub games in the hospital arrive in my head. I remember eating the whole bag of Lifesavers he gave me that night while studying and having none left the next morning for my Spanish exam. One night popped into my head where my mom was watching “Dancing with the Stars” on his TV in his hospital room and he and I got to walk around on the floor for a few minutes. We got an iced tea from the vending machine and shared it as we walked back to the room and passed out smiles to everyone with somber looks on their faces. The night of the three of us having spaghetti and meatballs and him telling me how coping with exam stress was only going to make me a stronger, healthier person in the end reminds me just how much of a positive and hopeful person my dad really was.

“Ellie Goldberg?,” I hear a lady ask as I jump up from the sofa a little bit, open my eyes and look over at the door she just came from, and glance a smile at her.

We exchange handshakes, I introduce her to my mom, and she escorts me back to her office. I tell her all about what classes I took at the community college and how I know for certain now that I can never be nor want to be a hairdresser or makeup artist, and she told me all about how transferring credits works at Columbia and what classes I would most likely be taking my first semester. At the end of the interview I expected to be in tears, but the exact opposite happened. My eyes were as wide as a new baby kitten’s and my whole body was jittering like lightning bugs at midnight. I was ready to face Columbia.

As my mom sings the enrollment deposit check and hands it to the receptionist I take secretly take another handful of lifesavers to go in my other back pocket.