AYA Cancer

Inevitable Change

Change.
Auburn leaves fall to the ground.
Magenta skies fade to black.
A lotus thrives in muddy water.
A caterpillar transitions.

Confined by the Present

It will never be the same
There are people all around me
They show their love
They show support
But it can only go skin deep

Finding and Losing Myself

In 2012 I was invited to a celebration for cancer survivors at which I spoke about finding my sense of self again after cancer. I still have a printed photograph from the event. On that glossy paper I was captured wearing a sleeveless white dress with a red sash. I looked healthy, and I was smiling. I was 22 years old.

Any Questions?

“You will be 100% infertile… Any more questions?”

The words reverberated in my skull as I took the receipt from the hospital parking deck turnstile. My anger radiating through my knuckles as I gripped the steering wheel tighter with each passing minute. My vexation only heightened by the fact that I just paid $15 for parking. All to be nonchalantly reminded that my new treatment plan would leave me unable to conceive children on my own.

Finding My Voice Again

Going through treatments was incredibly isolating. At the time, I did not really know anyone in the cancer community, so I had no one to talk to who understood what I was going through. I was the youngest patient at the hospital where I was treated. After treatments, I felt driven to start doing things I really enjoyed again that did not have to do with school or work—things that I enjoyed because it was a form of self-care, and it was just fun.

Debts We Don’t Owe

In February, I was faced with a sudden bout of severe pain and imaging that showed significant enlargement in one of my ovaries. Although I’ve since learned it was benign in origin, the debilitating pain and protracted (months-long) screening saga that followed triggered a fuming sense of betrayal that I couldn’t shake for about a week.

When Trauma Triggers…

As a sit here on a hot and humid day in New York City, literally today’s Wordle was “humid.” I see the air quality alert on my Alexa and weather app and am instantly taken back to when I was sick with Stage 4 Hodgkin’s disease in the summer of 1996 when I wasn’t allowed out of the house when there were such alerts.

Parent Mentoring: You Are Not Alone

There are moments in my life that I will never forget. Most of them represent important milestones like getting married, the birth of our sons, the sudden death of a good friend, and the passing of my dear parents. I can recall them all. However, there is another moment I will never forget: the day of my son’s cancer diagnosis.

I am Not A Soldier

You call me warrior, but I do not receive that title
I am a survivor, I am a mother, I am a friend
I am not a soldier

Comfortably Coping

When I think of Cancer, I think of survival. I’m not talking survival rates. No one wants to hear about that. I’m talking about pure daily survival. The everyday waking up and doing life tasks. I’ve learned that there is not a single thing that helps me through the daily monotony of living with Cancer. It’s more of a concoction; a little bit of this, a dab of that.