Feb 5, 2020
seen from India
seen from United States
seen from T1
seen from Canada
seen from South Korea
seen from Ireland
seen from Ireland
seen from Hong Kong SAR China
seen from China
seen from Malaysia
seen from Malaysia
seen from Switzerland
seen from United States
seen from France
seen from China
seen from Canada
seen from Japan
seen from Serbia
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
Parabains
Cabelo comprido dele com os aspirantes a cachos ❤
Remission to Mars
December 30, 2019
It can feel so trite to see another yearly round-up as 2019 comes to a close, and a new decade lies ahead. On the other hand, this isn't exactly my Spotify year-in-review, and considering I likely would not have celebrated my 34th birthday this summer had I continued to ignore my symptoms, I am doing a monthly highlights recap because I am alive to do it. My personal growth does not end at age thirty-three.
January — No noticeable breathing issues, but I do notice every backbend in yoga has been making me cough. I feel like it's been like this for the last few months. As an aside, I ask Gavin to be my boyfriend. He agrees!
February — I am sniffling essentially around the clock, but I presume this pesky symptom will go away. Gavin tells me he “doesn’t want to mess this up.” I meet up with some friends in Berlin over Presidents Day weekend.
March — One of my best friends, Samantha, gets married in Florida. I feel like my neck has aged two decades overnight from the sudden puffiness. I guess that anti-wrinkle cream doesn’t work. I regret choosing a strapless dress. As one of the bridesmaids, I am blowing my nose regularly from what feels like a post-nasal drip and insist to everyone I am not sick, despite coughing every four minutes.
April — It is getting difficult to breathe normally at night unless I am on my side. Inhaling steam and taking OTC meds are no longer sufficient. An x-ray leads to a CT scan to the ER and ICU. Later that month, I would meet Gavin's parents at his thesis presentation, and he would tell me he missed me.
May — My parents come to stay with me for nearly the entire month. After two biopsy procedures, I receive an official diagnosis for what all the medical professionals had suspected from the very beginning: mediastinal lymphoma or PMBCL. We delay starting chemo by a week, so I can attend my older brother's wedding in California, held the same night as the Game of Thrones series finale. That made it into my little brother’s best man speech, haha.
June — I start birth control and complete two rounds of chemotherapy. My hands fumble and drop an inordinate number of objects from the neuropathy, including my phone. My hair falls out even faster than expected, so we have a head shaving party. I am really so lucky to have such supportive friends and family through this entire process. Gavin indirectly tells me he loves me.
July — After my third round of chemotherapy, I am officially halfway done with treatment! Gavin breaks up with me very suddenly. I am devastated and confused. My magnificent friends and family continue to support me for a very different reason now. I see a therapist for the first time.
August — My little brother comes up to visit me for a few days over my birthday. I am very happy he's here to celebrate with me; we normally only see each other in the winter months.
September — My last round of chemo! I declare mouth sores to be the worst part of the entire treatment. Outside of that, one of my cousins gets married in San Francisco, which also gives me an opportunity to see my older brother. Beyond family trips, I speak with a third therapist. On our second appointment, she sees no need for me to come back.
October — I finally get the PICC line removed and am officially in the clear! A good friend and I embark on a weekend yoga retreat, and at long last I am able to unfreeze my gym membership.
November — A couple girls and I travel to Seoul, South Korea, for vacation. We had been planning it long before even my diagnosis, but it feels like there's so much to celebrate on this trip. Even if I am currently hairless and boyfriend-less, I know both states will be temporary.
December — All of my neuropathy is gone! I have been going to the gym three to five times a week, sometimes taking two classes in a row. My hair is growing back, and even my dad encouraged me to leave the house without a wig. What a way to speak familial love without using the three words.
What lies ahead now?
A routine CT scan has been scheduled for mid-January. I can't remember with 100% certainty if scans are to be done every six months or so for the next two years, but I believe I read something along those lines.
I still have four scars from my second biospy. Despite using lightening creams, it’s been slow to see much progress. I am considering getting a tattoo to cover it all up, and since I have never taken the time to get one, that would also serve as a new experience.
Despite all the awful things happening all around the globe and my propensity to brood over problems large and small, I am choosing to remain carefully optimistic and looking ahead toward a fresh start. As they say, change is the only constant. While good things may not last forever, neither do the bad.
___