The Sequel I did not ask for
The days are getting colder here in Boston, and the memories of last winter envelop me in a dark place that I fought so hard to escape. At 33, when I was preparing to run marathons, I was not ready to receive a cancer diagnosis, but you know what they say — Bad news never has a good time.
As I prepare to go back on chemotherapy, I promise to be kind to myself this time. Last year, I had eight cycles of chemo, and I have some mental notes to refer to for guidance. For instance, I know I cannot put my vacations on hold, but I can work around my hospital appointments and make short travel plans that fill me with joy and nourish my soul. I must acknowledge that I need help from my friends and family and know I cannot shut myself out. I have to share my thoughts and feelings with my well-wishers so I am not drowning in misery. I must keep reminding myself to stay ahead of nausea and stay active; I must remind myself to find a routine and normalcy in this unprecedented journey of mine. But most importantly, I must remind myself of my life's purpose; this is not the end all be all of my life; this is not how I envisioned my story to end, and so I decline to receive this narrative. Nah-uh!
I was due to start the therapy a week earlier than what was scheduled on myChart. Still, I was not happy about celebrating another birthday in between appointments and test results that reminded me of how resilient and fragile my body is at the same time. I pushed the appointments by a week to take a few days off work and relax with my loved ones by the ocean, reading, swimming, and enjoying the sound of the crackling fire when dusk falls over the horizon. And although this meant enduring the constant neck and shoulder pain attributed to growing tumors in my liver, in my opinion, it was worth it.
The vacation before my reunion with chemo-infusion pump
With these thoughts in mind, I take my puppy for his morning walk on a gloomy Wednesday morning and log my daily exercise routine. I have breakfast and rush to my appointment. When I reach the hospital, I get my blood drawn, and I hope my bloodwork looks good. I meet with the doctors to discuss my gene mutations, which ironically arrived on the day of my birthday and have been haunting me ever since. To briefly summarise, I have a gene mutation that makes my cancer the aggressive kind, just like my ambitions. I have a gene mutation, KRASA146T, found in 0.36% of registered cancer patients, making it resistant to many targeted therapies.
After the doctor’s visit, I went for my infusion appointment. During this appointment, I reminded my nurse about my allergies to several adhesives and sanitizers so she could get the substitutes. I got my book to keep me occupied for the two hours I would spend in the infusion chair. Lately, I have been reading Between the Kingdoms by Suleika Jaouad. I found many commonalities in Suleika’s experience with cancer. In her memoir, she calls out — nothing is more humiliating than asking for help and getting turned down. As someone who had reached out to my ex due to my helplessness and was turned down, I felt less lonely during this shared experience. It is heartbreaking to acknowledge that who I once thought would be my biggest strength chose to move on when I was hanging by a cliff. But it is also empowering to gain the never-ending support of my family. My parents and siblings have formed an army to help me persevere through this tough time, and I feel truly grateful and loved.
I do not know what lies ahead of me, but literature has taught me that strength does not come from physical capacity but from indomitable will. With this pepper of positivity, I will live each day with gratitude and fight with all my courage. If the universe agrees, I will travel with my family to exotic locations, try newer cuisines, see African wildlife, meet my friends, and hug them.
