How I dealt with my blood cancer diagnosis at nineteen years of age.
Is there a silver lining of being told there was a statistical medically-proven chance that you might not make it by the end of the year? To be nineteen years of age and to receive a diagnosis of cancer is not easy, and it never becomes easier. Before administering chemotherapy, I had to undergo three surgeries: a chest biopsy, a bone marrow biopsy, and a port placement procedure, not forgetting all the other necessary tests I had to undergo.
Chemotherapy, one of the primary therapy options for cancer, has led many women to their sterilization, and so options of hormone therapy, harvesting my healthy eggs, and other procedures I would have never thought of having were laid out to me prior to starting the treatment.
My first day of college is one I’ll never forget. Not because of it being my FIRST day of college, an independent and distant international student living thousands of miles from home, but it was the day my team of doctors confirmed my diagnosis: Non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma.
I would start chemotherapy three weeks after my initial diagnosis, but I ended up in the ER before that, possibly having to receive emergency chemotherapy, as my symptoms were only worsening at that point. There was a massive tumor, colluding on my chest giving me difficulties in breathing to the point walking for five minutes became a burdensome task. The tumor was blocking the blood flow from one of my heart arteries, resulting in a large blood clot in my neck. All that combined caused intense and painful swelling of my face, neck, arms, and chest.
After that initial yet stressful stretch of time where variables were constantly changing and my condition only going downhill, I finally started chemotherapy, and it wasn’t easier. I lost my hair, eyebrows, and eyelashes, my body physically was changing as I was losing weight being unable to eat or drink much, and I no longer recognized myself looking in the mirror. Even more, I never thought I would be more dependent on medication as I was and still am as of today, as I was on a course of medication that would ensure my survival from anti-inflammatory steroids and anti-virals to blood thinner and bone-marrow stimulating self-injections.
So I ask myself once again: Is there a silver lining of being told there was a statistical medically-proven chance that you might not make it by the end of the year? My answer would be yes, but also not really. I lost many friends because of my diagnosis, but it taught me the true meaning of friendship. I had lost my hair, but I learned to accept the ever-changing nature of beauty and our bodies. I needed help from my family for doing the simplest of tasks, but it only led me to appreciate them more, for I wouldn’t be writing this hadn’t it been for their support to me through thick and thin. I couldn’t eat or drink for days, but it made me realize how grateful I am to having food, water, and a roof over my head every single night. My situation was temporary, but for others around the world, it was their everyday heart-breaking reality.
As stressful and wild as college is, I still managed to make it through my classes while dealing with a battle of life and death, and I did that pretty well, to say the least.
I relied on a support system of family and friends who did everything they could to leave me with joyful memories of my experiences, ironically distracted myself with school and worked hard, and found an outlet, this one right here (writing), which took me eighteen years to find, to detach and unwind; leaving me with a more or less clean slate, a new beginning even. Never let go of your outlet. I may have temporarily done that, several times, but even on the most surprising road turns and time away, I always find myself right here, with a pen and a journal, or my laptop facing a word document, typing away into the early hours of dusk. Maybe, I was blessed with a cancer diagnosis, and definitely, you can change the way you look at every negative situation or hardship to a blessing and a wake-up call, to reflect, prosper, and thrive every single day.
Coping with A Cancer Diagnosis: What’s Next?
