Until about seven months ago, I knew the following about cancer: Samantha from “Sex and the City” had it, my childhood dog had to be put to sleep because she had a tumor in her stomach and my grandmother died of it when I was 6 years old.

Other than that, my exposure to cancer information came from TV stereotypes and statistical data.

All that changed Memorial Day weekend.

My boyfriend and I stopped in Chippewa Falls to see my mom and stepdad. Al, my stepdad, was wearing an eye-patch; he had double vision. We thought it was a fluke, or that he had a diabetic-related problem.

What it was was our first sign that something was horribly wrong.

Eventually, we learned that the double vision was caused by a brain tumor, which we later found out was caused by a tumor in his colon. By early October, we learned that the cancer had spread to his liver and lungs.

One could argue that my family’s situation is not unique. A friend of mine recently lost her father to cancer. Thousands of other daughters will probably loose their fathers to cancer this year.

According to the American Cancer Society, more than 550,000 people in the United States died of some form of cancer in 2004.

But numbers, from my perspective, seem so deceiving. More than half a million people died of some form of cancer last year. Many probably struggled over a long period of time, rather than the stereotype of one day getting really sick and dying.

What strikes me now, as someone who lives with the disease in my home 24 hours a day, seven days a week, is that my family does not fall into the stereotype. My stepdad went through chemotherapy, but his hair didn’t fall out. He’s barely stayed the same since we received the diagnosis; his condition seems to change by the minute.

Cancer isn’t about bald people walking around a track, eating ribbon-shaped cookies and distributing sunscreen.

Cancer, from what I’ve seen, involves vomiting blood, late nights wondering if we should call the hospital and pamphlets about grief.

In my family we discovered cancer and the treatment it entails is almost something of a secret world – a world you don’t see on TV or in statistical graphs.

For example, chemotherapy causes patients to have an extreme sensitivity to cold. Our routine was broken ever so slightly as we all had to remember that ice cream, popsicles and even cold milk were not options. The treatments also caused major nausea.

The brain tumor has caused an array of problems, ranging from facial paralysis to deafness in one ear. My mother and I could hardly believe it last week as we walked the aisles of Walgreen’s, looking for a sippy-cup for a 61-year-old man, because his mouth had become too weak to hold the liquids his body desperately needed.

Solid food is hardly an option anymore. My stepdad used to be able to polish off a huge prime-rib steak without breaking a sweat. A few nights ago, he struggled to eat the same amount of salmon as our 5 pound cat.

Our house is filled with drugs that we thought only were used recreationally by “druggies.”

It’s nearly the end of January, and in the almost eight months since we discovered something was wrong, we’re nearing the end. At 6-foot-1 and 140 pounds, my stepfather is a shadow of the man who used to pull heavy motors from cars and chase our horses around our coral.

I moved back home to help about two weeks ago, and now I see how he fails and rallies hour-to-hour, day-to-day.

But I’m one of the millions of Americans coping with cancer in my family. So, what makes my story so different?

The thing is, it’s not. Millions of Americans have houses filled with methadone or morphine to keep pain away for another day. Millions of Americans are coping with the side effects of chemotherapy. Millions of Americans wonder how cancer could rob them of a loved one.

I think, when dealing with this condition, it’s important to remember the real face of cancer. And while that face differs from person to person, it’s rarely just the happy-go-lucky bald person walking around a track and getting better. Battles with cancer are, in most cases, messy, gut-wrenching ordeals for both the afflicted and his or her family.

We all have the possibility of being touched by this disease.

Cancer isn’t a flash in the pan. There is not always a cure at the end of the rainbow. And, chances are, it’s not going to be like you’ve seen on TV.

For many of you, you’ve probably experienced these trials with family members of your own. But for the rest who were na‹ve like me, take a moment to realize the reality of cancer that millions of people deal with daily. Let’s all do our part. Let’s be pro-active. Let’s donate and volunteer. Let’s go to the doctor for annual cancer screenings. Let’s realize what cancer actually entails and do something about it.