Cancer

Cancer Friends

Friends.

Cancer during COVID. Seven hours from family. Neutropenic in the middle of a global pandemic. An unexpected passenger on the roller coaster of life.

The Phrases That Define Us

“Call it by its full name—just saying ‘cancer’ gives it power over you.”

That was the advice given to me by my first managing oncologist (he helped manage my treatment, while a local guy monitored and took care of things if I was in the hospital) near the time I was diagnosed.

Survivorship is Hard

Survivorship is hard. It never goes away. You always live a bit on the edge, wondering what will happen next. Or even if you’re going to make it through the day. I’m by myself. Live by myself, drive by myself, flying solo (to the shock of the friendly Costco lady today). If I didn’t respond to any messages and wasn’t online for 24 hours my coworkers Daniel and Savannah would check in on me. But that’s a long time. 

Silver Linings

When you think of your life and how it’s supposed to go, cancer never enters the picture. But when it does, everything stops, at least temporarily. While you try to wrap your mind around the thought that this disease just might kill you.

To All of the People I’ve Been Before

To little me:

You’re going to do big things. I love you and all that you grow up to be.

Dear Future Cancer Patient

You may be thinking that this letter made its way to you late. I assure you it didn’t. What good would have been accomplished if I had warned you of the tragedy to befall you? Would you have wanted all of your present moments to be tainted with the anxiety of the arduous journey ahead? Worry will cost you twice if you let it, once in the present and again in the future.

An AYA’s Journey Through AML, Academia, and Advocacy

At the young age of 21, just a few weeks into my first semester of grad school, life took a drastic turn. A diagnosis that no one expects—Acute Myeloid Leukemia (AML) with the FLT3 mutation. In the midst of textbooks and lectures, my world shifted to hospital rooms and treatment plans. The words “you have cancer” reverberated in my ears, altering the trajectory of my life.

My First Day of Forever

After weeks of anxiously waiting, it was finally here, my first day.

Not my first day of school.
Not my first day at a new job.
Not my first day moving into a new house.
This was my first day of chemotherapy.

I Wish I Knew

I wish I knew how scared other people would be, as if they could catch death just by being near me.
I wish I knew how many people would slowly fade away from me.
I wish I knew how incredibly hard it is to tell people how scared you are.

Scars and Souvenirs

“Your MRI result came back and it looks beautiful. We won’t know for sure until after surgery, but it appears you had a complete response to the chemotherapy.” As I heard my oncologist say these words, I could feel my heart start to beat a little faster, almost as if perking up at the idea of truly living again. Sure, I still had a lumpectomy, 20 rounds of radiation, and the rest of my immunotherapy to endure. But the cancer was gone and the worst part was over. I could breathe a sigh of relief as my life was finally mine again. Right?