It never dawned on me, until today, the effect cancer can have on a person.

She was laying on her bed and I could barely tell a person lay under the thin, white hospital sheets. A withered hand lay upon her chest, displaying dark veins that were only made more noticeable by thin, barely existent pale skin. Her short, curly white hair had been shaved, showing her noticeably pale scalp. I flinched as I hugged her lightly, afraid that if I touched her she would shatter into a million pieces. I've never had a problem with hospitals, hospitals always meant healing! right? But standing their, looking at my grandmother who was but a ghost of her former self, I couldn't help to wonder what a hospital really stood for. Healing, or death? I saw cancer in a shell today, a shell that used to be my grandmother