It isn’t until you’re fully immersed in a situation that you can comprehend the extent and enormity of it. Before embarking on my journey I was naive to what a life with cancer would look like. It isn’t until now that I fully understand the ups and downs, the twists and turns and the unpredictability of cancer. I didn’t know that this crazy, roller-coaster of a journey was about to disrupt my life. A journey which is not a quick, simple fix. A journey which is not smooth sailing. A journey which required a fighter!
I didn’t know what it felt like to actually hear the words. Being in a diagnosis conversation where you’re the one the doctor is talking about is surreal. I was trying to listen to the details and pay attention, but all I could focus on was the word cancer. I just wanted to get out of there and forget about it… I broke down under the weight of what I had just been told, sitting in silence and disbelief. This day was the worst.
I didn’t know how uncomfortable it was to tell other people the news. I never knew what to say. They never knew what to say. No one knew what to say, but there was relief when the news started to spread. It was overwhelming replying to all the calls and messages, but it helped that this nasty secret I’d been keeping was finally out, and my support network was growing.
I didn’t know how hard the waiting would be. It’s literally the most grueling part. The diagnosis process takes forever. The extensive consultations, the endoscopies, the exams and procedures… and the scans. Ugh, the scans were endless and exhausting. I felt like I was just going through the motions trying to remain strong and positive, but at that point I had no idea what I was dealing with, and the unknown was terrifying.
I didn’t know how much every word would be overanalysed. I’ve replayed the words “it’s cancer” in my mind over a thousand times. It never stops. It was a constant reminder that I was currently fighting for my life, a life which I have only just started living.
I didn’t know how strange it would feel to be called “brave”. It’s a word that gets thrown around quite a lot, but I still didn’t understand why people would call me this. Sure, I was going through what no young person should, but it’s not like I had a choice. I’m having treatment because I have to. It doesn’t really make me feel like much of a hero.
I didn’t know how it would feel to be stared at constantly. Walking around in the public eye, vulnerable and apprehensive. The piercing stares made me feel like a freak. A girl with no hair, so abnormal everyone had to take a look. If the gawking wasn’t enough, the ill-disguised whispering would always make me cringe. How could humans be so cruel?
I didn’t know the tiredness would be ongoing. When I said, I was tired, I really meant so much more. Sure, there’s exhaustion and extreme fatigue but there should be an entirely different word for cancer fighters. Some days I would really wonder if I had enough strength to push forward.
I didn’t know how intense the mood swings would be. One day I would feel confident that I could get through treatment and beat this, no problem. Then the next day I was convinced I wouldn’t be able to make it through another day. These alternating moods would sneak up on me without any warning.
I didn’t know how much time this really takes away from your life. It completely took over, I had to stop doing things I loved, I had to cancel plans, I ended up missing out on things that were important to me. It left me sitting on the sidelines wondering why this had to happen to me.
I didn’t know how strange it would be to watch my body change so quickly. I would catch myself staring at my reflection in disbelief. Maybe it was the scars, maybe it was the bald head, maybe it was the weight melting away when I would do everything in my power to eat as much as I could. All I wanted was to feel like myself, instead my appearance was a reminder of what I was up against. A big shadow in every moment, of every day in my life.
I didn’t know the toughest journey of my life would turn out to be such a rewarding experience. Do I miss my old life? NO. Cancer for me has been one long self-improvement journey. People often believe that it’s cancer that takes from you, but it’s cancer that has given me so many opportunities to learn and grow, and it has allowed me to gain a better understanding of life, and how I want mine to be led.
I spent every day for the last ten months fighting for my life, and it isn’t until now that I can fully appreciate the journey. I’ve grown in ways I never anticipated or knew were possible. The past two months since my last chemotherapy cycle have been intense. It feels like a switch has been flicked and all the emotions I couldn’t process about my cancer journey while I was going through chemo, I can now feel! It’s a strange feeling, not an unpleasant one, rather an awakening. It’s like I’m finally granting myself permission to process everything I have been through. I’ve let myself feel all of these emotions. The sadness, the grief, the loss of 23 and my ignorant, blissful youth; but also, the profound value in the immense personal and emotional growth, and the strength that I possess. While I know, my journey isn’t over, it feels like I have a new lease on life. I have years of scans and check-ups ahead of me, before I can be declared fully “cured of cancer”, but if this journey has taught me anything, it is that life is seriously precious and we have to make every moment count.
I didn’t know that my 23rd year would be one with such exceptional highs and unbearable lows, but now I know everything had to happen exactly the way it did, to get me to where I’m going next…
I can’t wait to see where life takes me,
Chi
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