When you look at me, what do you notice? A normal girl? Thought so. Behind the smile, joking nature and crazy personality, you would never imagine seeing anything different. And why would you? You would not consider alternative possibilities because that is human nature–taking things at face value. Why would you think that behind these black eyes, there was another story that was left untold? A story that was a part of me for a chunk of high school and subsequently followed me through my first year of college. Even I was not prepared for the roller coaster that was ahead of me.
I was miserable with symptoms similar to the flu (cough, fever, body pains). At least that was what the doctor told me when I visited her on December 12, 2012. Just days before my final exams (when the stress was exorbitant), I was told that I had relapsed because I had not rested enough. I could not afford to miss more school than I already had. The doctor ordered a blood test and never in my wildest dreams did I consider the outcome that I received.
On December 13, 2012, I was called into the principal’s office with a note that said “urgent.” I was told that my mother was on her way, which baffled me because she would never pick me up in the middle of the day (especially considering the number of days I had missed). I waited impatiently as my tear-stained, red-faced mother entered the office. She signed me out and explained that doctors needed to run some more tests because an error had occurred in the blood test results. I would later find out that my mother and father were already aware of my diagnosis. We went straight to Lucile Packard Children’s Hospital at Stanford where more tests were done. Even in the car, it did not occur to me that I should have been alert. I was so focused on my final exams that it did not sink in where we were going. I was immediately taken in to the emergency room in the Oncology Unit (we were not aware of this during the time) and another blood test was taken. You know something is wrong when four doctors enter the room to present the news. And that’s when they said it. I had Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia (a blood cancer of immature white-blood cell blasts). I pinched myself multiple times to see if I was dreaming but every time, it was the same diagnosis. It felt like an eternal bad dream.
For the following three years, I would have numerous hospitalizations, emergency room visits, ICU stays, constant rounds of chemotherapy (losing my hair and becoming bald twice) and strange looks from peers and individuals who were ex-friends. I ultimately had to repeat my junior year because I was not strong enough to juggle academics and chemotherapy treatment. The worst part was not the constant nausea or side effects, but the pain and suffering that were in the eyes of my parents. To watch them cry every time they looked at me because they knew they could not do anything.
In April of 2015, before I came to college, I ended intensive chemotherapy. While the difficult part was over, I still suffered side effects (dizziness, vomiting, depletion of energy and intense headaches) on a daily basis and had to learn how to control/manage them. Many of my peers would wonder why I was constantly missing school and I would always laugh it off or make up an excuse saying “I really did not want to attend class today. I did not feel up to going.” I let others think I was a jokester and not serious, rather than let them know what was actually going on. It was easier than having them feel sorry for me. I guess it also took me a while to accept what I had been through since I never got to let it sink in. It all happened so quickly that I had to grow up and be the parent (as a support system for my own parents). I have realized that instead of hiding this part of me, I will embrace it as a challenge that I overcame, instead of something that I was ashamed of.
