“A Lifetime of Inspiration” by Lydia Orkin, 17

“Lydia, could you pass me my cane?” my dad asks. I chirp yes and hand it to him, a childlike eagerness in my actions. He thanks me and balances his weight on it, walking with a limping gait. I slip my hand into the free one by his side. For me, this was our routine. For him, this was his life.

Ever since I was a kid, I tended to observe my dad. He walked unlike anyone in his age bracket. A blue handicap placard dangled from his rear-view mirror. He exhaled a sigh of relief at the motorized scooters in the store. He got looks of sympathy when we were out. To me, these occurrences were as arbitrary as loose puzzle pieces. They were character traits. Sure, my dad used a cane, but he also liked to read, hated mangoes, and told good stories. This was just how things were.

People always wanted to know what was going on. I didn’t think there was anything to know. “Why does your dad take so many medications?” a nosy babysitter probed. I’d shrug. I didn’t want to think too much about it. I was the type to plug my ears at bad news. I was the type to squeeze my eyes tight at the sight of roadkill. I wanted to believe my father was A-OK and healthy like everyone else. But

this was not the case. His doctor’s trips, hospitalization, and laundry list of medicine told me otherwise. I had to face the music.

Accepting my father had sicknesses was reaching a hand out for his cross to bear. His autoimmune disease, Multiple Sclerosis, affected his life greatly. It made easy things hard, and hard things impossible. It took my father a while to put on his shoes. Walking from the house to the mailbox was a long, arduous, journey. It left him weak and tired. My father had no feeling in his hands, and sometimes needed help to open food. Occasionally, his legs would give out, and I would help him off the floor. At the airport, we would request a wheelchair. On top of that, he struggled with colon cancer. It put him through long surgeries. My mother and I would not see him for weeks. When he came home, he did not have enough strength to get to the bed. He had to sleep on a pallet on the floor. The cancer left him with a colostomy bag. It was a big lifestyle change. My mom would come to me sadly and say he’s having trouble with it. I let go of my innocence to acknowledge my father’s pain.

Sure, my dad was a sick man, but he was sarcastic, witty, and cosmopolitan. He was a funny person who told jokes like it was his job. There was never a day where I wasn’t belly laughing at a remark he made. He’d complain about his circumstances, but add some humor. He peppered his speech with idioms, hyperboles, parables, and strange lingo. You wouldn’t believe the stuff that came out of his mouth. Language was his medium of choice, and he was the artist. Stories of him traveling foreign lands would always worm its way into conversation. He would tell tales of him as an adventurous young man, hungry to see the world. We’d hear about the wacky characters he’d meet at a corner store, or the attention he got when he lived in Japan. My mom and I would roll our eyes at his repetition. Yet, we would hang on to every word. This intrepid young man was still inside of my dad, battered, but still holding strong.

I don’t love my dad despite his sickness- I love him because of it. He is the strongest person I know. He dealt with his chronic illnesses without ever letting them get him down. My father takes blow after blow, but still stands tall. He’s a beacon of bravery. Not only is he a survivor, he’s also an excellent husband and father. He provides for my mother and me unconditionally. He is one of my biggest role models. Even when he didn’t feel well, he’d bring me to school, watch a show with me, and pick me up after work. He taught me to follow my dreams, including my goal of being a lawyer. I aspire to use my future position to assist vulnerable individuals. I want to assist people with disabilities and marginalized groups who need legal help. This award would push me further toward my dream of helping others. With my father’s love motivating me, I know I can change the lives of so many people. Life is a gift, and spending time with my father has shown me that. There should be no stigma around individuals with chronic illnesses. They are superheroes walking among us. By just existing as he is, my father has given me a lifetime of inspiration.