Day 2,075 - The Big Reveal!!!

Earlier this year, I set out with the purpose of embracing my cancer journey more. Not only that, I wanted to do what I could and help other survivors as well. When I was diagnosed, I felt very isolated because there wasn't anyone I could easily relate to. Sure, I could find all the info on what to expect regarding chemo side effects and the obviously outdated statistics for my cancer at the time. However, I couldn't find anyone I could easily look up to and say, "They've been in my shoes and know what I'm currently going through." I mean, no two cancers will have the same story or experience, but many share common elements that tend to be swept under the rug. So, I wanted to get my story out there and have my voice heard.

In addition to attending a young adult cancer camp this summer (see the blog post regarding that), I decided to do an interview with The Patient Story in the hopes that sharing my cancer story would connect with others whose place I've been in. My story is one that defied the odds, and I want to show others that they are more than just a statistic and that there is always hope. So I sat down with a journalist and went into great detail about the three-year battle I had been through.

Today, that interview has been published for anyone to see, and I'm so proud of how it turned out. They did a good job trying to condense everything into one video. Although they covered most of this journey, I intend to use my blog to go into detail regarding the not-so-common experiences and answer any questions left in the comments. Here is the link to the interview with the link to the full interview transcript in the video's description:

https://youtu.be/5D07sKKNk1k?si=lsZvhW_EExzKSHgQ

So, with that said, until I pop back on here with my next blog post.....

Day 2,074 - Learning to (Not) Be Silent

 When I was in my sophomore year in high school, I decided to take a leap of faith and pursue a passion of mine by trying out for the drama club for the first time. I auditioned for the spring musical Footloose, and although I gave it my all, I didn't quite have high expectations. Sophomores typically don't get major roles as those are typically reserved for the seniors in the drama club. However, to everyone's surprise, I landed the role of Vi Moore (the preacher's wife) with lines and musical numbers, including my own solo. I was welcomed into the drama club with open arms, and my time with the Midnight Players marks one of the best moments of my life. I made so many friends and felt so much love and energy that I would stay in the auditorium practicing dance moves until it got dark outside. 

Yes that is me on the right...don't I look thrilled? lol! Seriously, this musical was so much fun though!

I know what you must be thinking...why am I reminiscing about the "good ol' days" of high school? Well, when I played this particular character in this musical, I had a trio number called "Learning to be Silent." In the song, I talk about how I want to hold my tongue and avoid conflict by staying out of arguments and keeping my thoughts and feelings to myself so as not to upset anyone. Now, "high-school-me" couldn't understand for the life of her what that really meant. I was that obnoxious loudmouth who always had something to say and loved chiming into arguments that were about subjects I was passionate about. Even in the classroom growing up, I was called the "Hermione Granger" of my history class because I insisted on correcting my teachers when they mispronounced European names like Lafayette or Alexei. I was chatting and giggling up a storm if I wasn't singing backstage. This teenage version of me felt too comfortable to hold anything back. Learning to be silent felt like a skill I would never achieve...until the reaper started knocking on my door. 

From the moment I graduated high school until recently, I slowly began hiding more and more of my true self. Especially after receiving a death sentence, not once but twice from medical professionals, I saw life slipping away. I felt like cancer, in particular, snatched too much from me that I had very little to hold onto anymore. I lost my hair, my fertility, my confidence, my identity, and almost my future. Despite that, I felt like I needed to internalize a lot of this struggle because I saw the impact it had on the people I love. I lost people who used to be so close to me for years simply because they couldn't handle the problem I had no control over. I also felt like I was a constant burden whenever I spoke up and expressed what was on my mind; I still feel that way sometimes. 

However, in the last couple of years, I've really been working towards tearing down the mental walls I've built over a decade. It's been a work in progress to open up again and develop that trust with others, and it's part of the reason I decided to hop back on to my blog. It's not only a great outlet, but it helps put out a message for anyone else who might be going through something similar. Whether they were just diagnosed, in treatment, or post-treatment...this blog is here to say, "I see you, and you're not alone in this fight."

When I looked back on old posts in my blog, I realized that for almost the entire first year of my cancer ordeal, I didn't post anything. This was because I was confident that it would just be a blip in my timeline and that life would just go back to normal...even though "normal" is not really a thing one can ever really achieve after a diagnosis, unfortunately. I'm a bit bummed that I left out so much valuable information regarding those early days. So, I will make it a mission for the upcoming blog posts to reflect and give insight into those early days. I'll keep it light, bubbly, and fun while being authentic and informative regarding my experiences. And to welcome this new era of my blog, I decided to do something incredibly daring. I can't talk about it yet, but once all the beans have spilled, I'll share the news with you all in a new post!! So until then...I hope you all are having a lovely turkey holiday if you celebrate it!

Day 1,998 - Cancer Camp

Last weekend I did something I haven't done properly in a while...I took a vacation. *GASP* 

Now I know some people will read that be like, "But Maddie, you went to the beach," or "What about when you traveled to South Carolina?"...yes, I've taken days off here and there for activities, and yes I've traveled to visit family. However, every time in the past three years that I've "taken a vacation," I never truly allowed my mind to stop worrying. In fact, I would find myself getting even more stressed thinking about how I was wasting precious time and worrying about how had all these things I still have/want to do. I'd come home even more tense than I did when I left. Except, this time was gonna be different. 

At the beginning of the year, I was trying to look for any young adult cancer support groups or activities that were held outside of a virtual platform. I wanted to meet new people in a non-judgemental space, and I was determined to find an inexpensive getaway from all the day-to-day craziness. Then one day, I came upon the website for YASU (Young Adult Survivors United). I found a plethora of resources and events, one of which led to a registration page for the Young Adult Cancer Camp held just outside of Pittsburgh. There were promo pictures/videos of people in their 20s and 30s smiling, going down slip 'n' slides, and participating in a writing workshop. I was sold, and instantly, I sent in my registration form.

Fast forward to August 31st, I left my morning class on campus, hopped into the car that I had pre-packed the night before, and set off down the road for Pennsylvania. All the way there, I was listening (and singing along) to showtunes in the car when "Something's Coming" from West Side Story started to play. Memories from when I was a kid driving up to Pittsburgh to visit relatives with my dad started bouncing around in my mind. The anticipation I felt driving up for camp felt like the anticipation I felt back then, knowing a lot of fun was coming my way. With a smile, I started singing along..." The airrrr is humminnnn', and something greaaaat is comin'." Something great most certainly was!

After about four hours, very little traffic, and a couple pit stops along the way, I eventually turned off onto a dirt road with a Christmas tree farm on the left-hand side. The trees were so tiny but also incredibly misleading since, further along the road, I eventually found myself in a tunnel of very tall trees. Everything was so green, and pulling my window down, I took in the fresh air. Eventually, the dirt road pulled up to a big open space with the main lodge in sight. I parked up by the entrance to what would be the dining hall and was immediately greeted by the camp counselors whom I'd never met before. They gave me a bag with some cancer survivor goodies and a schedule of activities for the next three days before pointing me in the direction of Harbison Lodge, where I would be staying with half of the girls attending. I hopped back in the car so I could unload and unpack while everyone was already gathering for an early dinner. Harbison sat quietly on top of a small slope cloaked by tall trees. I parked next to one of the campers here who happened to have the same bumper sticker as me...Already I had a good feeling about this place.

I walked into a big common room area that looked so cozy with comfy sofas perfect to curl up and read a book in; this was my fallback plan should it rain during my stay, which, thankfully, it did not. My dorm was all the way at the end of the hall, with the walls lined with four sets of bunk beds with only the top beds unclaimed. I picked the one closest to the window that had the best view of the greenery just outside. 

Once I settled in and freshened up a little, I grabbed my bag and made my way back to the dining hall. Almost 100 people filled the space! I grabbed some food and signed up for a majority of the activities before the icebreakers began. We split everyone up into two groups and repositioned the chairs and tables so that we all sat in two big circles. One by one, we introduced ourselves and stated our cancer diagnosis. I sat there with wild emotions...I had never found myself surrounded by SO many people my age who had been in my shoes before. One of the girls stated she was diagnosed with Hodgkin's Lymphoma, and in my head, I was like, "OH MY GOD! I HAVE TO TALK TO THEM!" 

Until that day, I never got to meet anyone who had Hodgkin's Lymphoma despite it being one of the more common cancers in people 20-25 years old. But then...a second person stated they had Hodgkins as well, and I was totally freaking out on the inside. Where had these people been for the last 8 years?!? (I should mention that half the people attending were not very far out from active treatment and, therefore, would have been diagnosed years after me.) 

A moment later, my jaw would drop after a third Hodgkins case was announced. Out of everyone attending, a good handful of us were Hodgkin's Lymphoma survivors. I was blown away. 

After making this discovery, we dispersed, and I made a mad dash back up the hill to my lodge to grab my Unus Annus hoodie in case it got chilly. Just as the sun was starting to set, we all met up behind the dining hall, where a roaring campfire was already burning bright, hidden by a wall of trees and in front of a stone platform. Some of the girls were already cooking up smores, and I chatted with a few who weren't in my icebreaker circle earlier. With our stomachs full, we all started to drift back up towards our assigned lodges for the night, with only the full moon lighting our way. I took my time walking back, and in the middle of a clearing, I chose to stop and look up at the night sky. It had been such a long time since I had seen that many stars out. 

It was at that moment, while gazing at the stars, that I decided to make a solitary goal for myself. I wanted to use the opportunity of being at camp to embrace the theme of letting go. I wanted to use this time to have fun and relax rather than worry about anything beyond those three days. I told myself to forget about work and that my coworkers would survive without me for a few days. I was not going to allow myself to worry about my college classes since clearing my mind of that anxiety would be beneficial for my grades in the long run. I tuned out of various social media platforms for the most part so as not to be provoked by politics and drama. If I caught myself thinking about anything stress-inducing, I would just remind myself to breathe. This silent vow I made turned out to be the key to unlocking this much-needed vacation. 

The next morning, I wasn't surprised at all to find that I accidentally slept in, considering I stayed up late writing in my journal and chatting with some of the girls before actually going to sleep. Ultimately, I missed breakfast, as well as the first activity that I signed up for, the guided hike. I was the only one who hadn't gotten out of bed. Looking at my watch, I found out that I not only forgot to set my alarm but only had 10% battery remaining. I wasn't even upset to find that I left the charger at home on accident because who needs to worry about the time when my single objective was to just be in the present moment, right? Scrambling out of my bunk, I quickly got ready for the day, grabbed my camp bag, and made my way to a writing workshop I signed up for and refused to skip out on. 

I grabbed a seat just as everyone eagerly flowed into the room from their first morning activities. The long tables were positioned in a giant square, and at each chair was a brand-new guided writing journal. During this workshop, I could sense the energy in the room was full of deep emotions as people wrote about dark and painful memories, while at the same time, the atmosphere was also brimming with love and support towards one another. As volunteers read aloud some of the things they wrote, many of us were nodding our heads in agreement and empathy. Toward the end of the workshop, I felt encouraged to share what I wrote for one of the writing prompts, which I wanted to share with you all here.

The prompt: What is something you can do for yourself today that will bring you joy?

My response:

Breathe

Look and cherish the beauty all around you

Live in the moment and notice the little things

Listen, and not just to the words you or others speak

Welcome the feelings with no shame

Allow yourself to let go of the past

Discover and try something new

Eat good food in good company

Go for a swim and float with a peaceful mind

Take a long walk and admire the stars

Journal before the lights go out

But first and foremost, remember...

Breathe

It was a simple response that ended up inspiring and encouraging those in the room with me. I left the workshop feeling even more at peace but also motivated. By the last day at camp, I was proud of myself for having fulfilled a lot of what was on this list. Over the course of this getaway, I rediscovered some of my passions and hidden talents, like archery (even a week later, I still have the bruises to prove it). 

I went swimming twice, went down a slip 'n' slide for the first time in years, tie-dyed, and did a water aerobics class for the first time (because who wouldn't want to dance around with pool noodles while jamming out to Nicki Minaj's "Starships" surrounded by a bunch of cancer survivors with dark humor). I made so many new friends who all swore that they would return next year (I'm personally holding the Lymphomies to that promise). The weather was perfect during my stay, and the food was fresh, healthy, and delicious. On the second night, a bunch of us stayed up late playing board games and card games. There were moments on this trip where I felt like a kid again, and although I had only known the other campers for a couple days, I felt comfortable opening up and talking about my story multiple times. It was an incredibly healing experience.

https://www.instagram.com/reel/Cwuw3I5AJsD/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link&igshid=MzRlODBiNWFlZA==

I left camp feeling so rejuvenated and energized, so much so that I made a few spontaneous stops along the way home. First, I stopped by the cemetery to visit my Dad's grave before swinging by his hometown of Glassport. This town was admittedly a bit run down and had changed drastically since my childhood days when I would go up to visit my grandparents/relatives in the summer. Despite that, I revisited all the old destinations and grabbed some food to go from the diner my grandfather frequented. Half the workers there recognized me instantly as "Joey's kid," and I took some time talking to each worker while looking at old pictures of my dad and grandfather. On my way out, I swore I'd come back again soon. Then a few more miles down the road, I decided to veer right to check out Fort Necessity, spending an hour out there before hitting the road again (It's not a proper road trip for me unless I find something historical about it).

This truly felt like a long overdue vacation despite it lasting less than a week. Sure, I came back tired/sleepy, but overall I felt less tense or stressed. Instead, I feel motivated and empowered going into this new semester of classes......And speaking of which, I should probably get back to my studies. 

If you are a cancer survivor, I highly recommend checking out YASU's Young Adult Cancer Camp next year. And if you aren't a survivor but know someone who is, please spread the word, as it is open to young adult survivors from anywhere in the US or Canada! YASU also offers online resources, hosts support groups and healing workshops, and holds events like this throughout the year. I also encourage anyone who is feeling generous to donate to this non-profit organization, and I'll leave the link to their webpage here: https://yasurvivors.org/

And remember...

Day 1,981 - New Beginnings

 Hello, world...I'm back. 

Since my last post almost 5 years ago, there has been so much that has transpired in the world. We collectively spent two of those years in a global pandemic, political tensions, and a whole boatload of mind-numbing occurrences that would make anyone question whether or not they've entered an alternate universe.

However, during that time, I reached new milestones...chapters in my life that I never thought I'd live to see. I ended up on the Dean's List every semester, received my associate's degree, and graduated with honors in May 2020. I moved out of my childhood home again and transferred to the University of Maryland. I saw the band that inspired me to keep fighting through cancer, My Chemical Romance, get back together and see them perform live in concert, something I never thought in a million years I'd get to do. I saw friends get married, have kids, earn promotions, and travel. I also can say that as of March 20th this year, I made the five-year post-transplant mark. I'm officially in a state of remission. I made it. I survived.

This is cause for celebration, right? Well...

The fact of the matter is that the path to get here was one that contained a great deal of pain and hardship. Since receiving this second lease on life, I had to say goodbye to my pug and cat, who passed away in 2020, one month apart from each other, just after I transferred schools. I had to cope with the passing of good friends, including those within my support group. I even had to lay my father to rest last year. I say all this because the takeaway I had from these past five years is that while looking back it feels like dying was easier and living is harder...life still goes on regardless. It forces us to keep moving forward. So you either keep trucking forward, or you surrender to despair...and I almost did just that.

In 2020, at the very start of the pandemic, I attended my graduation on a virtual platform from my bedroom. Being in an almost constant state of quarantine as I waited for classes to start up again (this time at a new campus), I often found myself sitting alone with my thoughts. This made it all too easy to unlock the door in my mind that kept back the flood of cancer trauma. The problem is that once opened, it gets harder to close it back up without repercussions. Juggling the emotions with "normal" everyday life as an essential employee was like trying to scoop up the flood in a bucket, but there's only so much it can carry at a time.

Foolishly, I kept insisting to my peers who saw and pointed out the danger accumulating that I was fine. I knew very well that I wasn't, but I figured if I just distract myself with work or studies, then I'll be fine. So, while everyone was mandated to wear a mask in public, I was wearing two; one to prevent the spread of covid and the other to conceal the pain that worsened day by day. Eventually, there were close calls where I felt like I was drowning, and I was so tempted to just give up. Thankfully, I had a strong support system of friends who willingly pulled me out of these moments of distress. By the end of 2020, I finally took the initiative to seek help and reached out to a therapist, who has helped me confront the damages of this flood in a safe manner. In the end, I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for everyone who stood by my side that year.

I bring this all up because I know what it's like to put on a brave face and pretend like everything is fine, only to suffer in silence when you're alone. I know what it's like to support and comfort everyone around you but pay little attention to your own needs and desires. I recognize just how important mental health is for not just those in active treatment but also those who are in remission. Whether your cancer struggle lasted 6 months or 3 years...it's still a moment in your life when the world gets flipped upside down. To not acknowledge the pain there and put off the necessary healing process, it can be just as lethal as the silent buildup of cancer cells taking over.

Fast forward to today, I gave an interview on my own cancer story when I realized just how impactful my story can be for others. I underwent things most cancer patients never have to face. I endured 3 years of various treatments and a risky bone marrow transplant. The knowledge that I've gained and the experiences I encountered might be worth the pain if it can benefit someone who is currently looking for a lifeline. I've noticed many young adult survivors try to give back to the cancer community by actively pursuing a career in the medical field. Others have also held fundraisers to benefit the advancement of treatment, while some advocate and promote legislation that will allow others to receive life-saving care. However, I know I don't need to be in the spotlight to make a difference. That is why I decided to revive this blog I started back in 2015 in the hopes that maybe it might reach at least one lonely soul and encourage them not to give up. I know when I was in the midst of my cancer ordeal, I wish I had found a kind of hope that I could relate with. I wish I could have heard from more young adult survivors who stood up against the near impossible odds and actually make it. I wish I could have been able to reach out and ask for advice when it came to issues that only young adult cancer patients face, like fertility, fashion, and dating. I want to try to be that lifeline for someone else.

So here marks the start of a new chapter. 

My name is Maddie. I'm 30 years old. I'm a full-time student and a full-time accountant. And I'm a cancer survivor warrior. 

Day 285 - The Unreachable Star

Hey folks...I’m not dead!

I’m sorry it’s been a while. I had intended to post several times, including when I reached the 6-month post-transplant point, but so much has happened and time has been very scarce. As I mentioned in my last post, I jumped right back into my studies the moment I got discharged from Baltimore, and it has seriously eaten away at the little free time I had to begin with. These past few months have been extremely eventful, to say the least, so bear with me as I try to summarize them and bring you all up to date.

On September 20th, I made it to the 6th-month mark, and my scans showed more unexpected improvement from the last! Although the cancer had been completely eradicated, my new immune system went above and beyond. The scar tissue that lingered inside after all of the many treatments I endured decreased significantly, to which my oncologist said that this is a very good sign. My blood type also switched over from my old type O Positive to what is my sister’s type, B Negative. My energy is slowly, but steadily, coming back to me. By the time I started my full load of courses on campus for the fall semester, the ringing in my ears had subsided, and I was even able to jog my first mile (something I didn’t even think would be possible so soon after a transplant).

At this time, I also started the re-vaccination process...ugh! Since my immune system was essentially the same as a newborn child’s, I had to get the whole nine yards of booster shots. For the first round of shots, I ended up getting a total of 7 shots (including my flu shot) all in one sitting. My takeaway from that experience is I now understand why children don’t like shots. If you ever find yourself getting a Hepatitis B shot, brace yourself...it’s not pleasant. Otherwise, despite the following two days being sore in the arms, I adjusted and distracted myself with my schoolwork.

In October, I decided to take a chance and audition for the theatre department's holiday showcase. I initially went in with absolutely no expectations, especially since it had been over 8 years since I auditioned for a theatrical performance. When I got my first neck biopsy in 2015, my vocal cords didn’t adjust well, and I still have trouble hitting certain notes that would normally sit easily in my range. However, I managed to blow my expectations out of the park when I got the courage to sing “If I Loved You” from the musical Carousel. I didn’t even believe how well I did until I listened to a snapchat recording my friend took of my audition. It felt so unreal...unreal to think how far I had come. It was as if everything suddenly fell into place at that moment...and for the first time in a very long time, I felt like me again. The reality set in especially after I got the email telling me I made it into the show, where I made many new friends. I had a blast singing Christmas songs to veterans and their families at the Walter Reed National Military Medical Center. It was as if the past three years were simply a nightmare I had woken up from.

Sadly, November proved to be incredibly challenging. In the midst of so much going on at school, rehearsals, and doctors appointments, I ended up having to take a whole week off from class due to a really nasty chest cold. It was a smack in the face because this should have been something I would have recovered from easily had my immune system not been so low. Instead, I lost my voice, was put on a TON of drugs, and could barely manage to leave my bed. At the same time, I was facing many family and home stresses that started to take a toll on my mental health. Survivors guilt also crept in, and I had this overwhelming and reoccurring feeling like I’m not supposed to be here...that I didn’t deserve to be here. I knew that I was not ok, but felt like I needed to put on a happy face and pretend that everything was ok. I funneled my pains and dark thoughts into a box in the back of my mind. It wasn't until December arrived, that the box imploded.

The holidays did not turn out how I had originally anticipated it to be like. Tensions at home were extremely high, and exam week was approaching. I thought that if I put all my focus and hard work into my studies, that all will be well in the end. I lost so many hours of sleep and worked ridiculously hard to make sure that I ended the semester with straight A’s. But as soon as my professors logged in every perfect grade, the world hit me in the face. The box in the back of my mind opened up and hell was unleashed. I felt trapped, afraid, and anxious about the future. Tiny things were triggering major panic attacks that would lead to multiple questions. What do I do with my life? Where do I go? Why am I still here? Will the cancer come back? How much borrowed time did I get from the years of treatment?  Is it even worth it?

Poison was seeping into my head...and it felt like I was very alone. Despite the major accomplishments I made, the satisfaction from them was not enough to overpower these attacks. However,  on December 17th I hit a lot point, and I decided to play some showtunes on a televised music station. The first song that came on was ‘The Impossible Dream” from Man of La Mancha...and I instantly felt at peace.

I was reminded of my grandmother, who used to repeatedly play that song over and over for me when I was little. It later dawned on me that, 8 years ago on this exact date, she had peacefully passed away. But what also occurred that same day, just last year, was the moment I made the decision to take on my 5th and final chemotherapy. Despite doctors and specialists telling me how risky it was and the likelihood of it not working, I chose to fight and persevere. Earlier this year, a miracle happened, and I was put into remission after only two rounds of this chemo and eventually given the green light for a bone marrow transplant. I knew in that moment that my grandmother was there with me that night. She was one of the reasons I fought so hard to live. She is one of the reasons I’m still here, because I “still strove with [my] last ounce of courage, to reach the unreachable star.”

The next day, I started to pick myself up again, and I set a plan in motion. I want 2019 to be my redemption year. I want this next year to be the year where I take back what cancer took from me. I’ve already started on this path with my studies, but I don’t want it to stop there. Because of cancer, I had to plant my feet in the ground and stay with my parents while those around me were moving on with their lives. Because of cancer, I was forced to abandon the workday world and limit my activity and interactions with others. Because of cancer, I gained a lot of weight, lost my hair, and inevitably became incredibly self-conscious. Because of cancer, I lost friends either from fear of associating with someone like me or from the disease itself. Well, you know what? I’m done sitting by and letting this cancer claim undeserved victories! 2019 is the year I take it all back! And I plan on using this platform to show just how far I'll fly!

"Here I go, and there's no turning back! My great adventure has begun! I may be small, but I've got giant plans to shine as brightly as the sun!!"

 -Jo March from Little Women the Musical

Day 106 - Post Treatment, Still Fighting

It wasn't until I started writing this post that I realized I'm post 100 days after transplant. Wow. Already I feel like I've come so far, and yet I have so much more ahead of me; just thinking about it makes me queasy.

At the start of last month, I took on a major stepping stone; I went back to school for an online summer course. These last few weeks have been very difficult as I have no energy to do much, and I'm still dealing with some lingering side effects from transplant. However, the great thing about this online class is that I can do it at my own pace (for the most part) and it gives me something to do. If I didn't have that, I'd be extremely bored and most likely severely depressed. I'm not even allowed to go back to work until next year when my blood counts are back and I've gotten all my childhood vaccines again. At the moment, I essentially have the immune system of a newborn baby.

Physically I'm still very weak, which definitely has an impact on what I can and cannot do. I sleep for a majority of the time and have hardly any appetite. I've also been dealing with this pulsing sensation in my ears that just doesn't seem to go away. After seeing an ENT specialist, I was left with more concerns than I would have liked. He couldn't tell me if this was something neurological, vascular, or nothing at all...but he did have suspicions on whether it was related to the blood clot I had at the end of my transplant ordeal. Next month I get an MRI to check and see if there are any problems...if so, I might need surgery.

Needless to say, this past month has been emotionally difficult considering everything going on. My hair is starting to come back, and I've managed to lose 10 pounds since I was discharged, thanks to my waning appetite. I resumed my perfect attendance at my cancer support group and have even caught up with a few friends of mine. I even managed to go to a Celtic festival with my mom and sister for a few hours (I had been dying to eat some haggis since my trip to Scotland). Despite all these wonderful things happening, I still feel empty and low. I thought things would start looking better once I was out of transplant, but the reality is that the fear of relapse is ever more present.

Everyone keeps telling me to "Stay positive!" or "You're cured!" and "You can finally go back to normal life!"...and I'm really trying...but the PTSD from dealing with this transplant, and everything that has happened in these past 3 insane years, is starting to catch up with me. It's gotten to the point where I had to decide what I want to do with my life based on my health predicament. I've been avoiding the summer sun in fear that just the mildest burn could end my life. Every day I have a moment of panic where I quickly check my neck for fear of finding a lump again. I can't sleep at night, because I keep having nightmares where my transplant doctor tells me my cancer has come back and there's nothing left for me. Everyone has been complimenting me on my hair growth, but I can't even enjoy it since I fear for a future where I'm told that I will have to lose it all over again. I try so hard to repress the fears, but it's just too much. There are very few people who seem to really understand as well. It's frustrating to think that even after all the treatment I've endured, I'm still fighting...only this time for sanity and peace of mind.

Thankfully, I'm planning to take some time for myself and get away from home at the end of the month. I'm hoping to be in a better state of mind when I return so that I'm ready for the fall. In September is when the real showdown happens: two transplant follow-ups, a CT scan, and I begin the childhood vaccines. In the meantime, I'll just keep writing essays for my class and distract myself with the World Cup. I may never "go back to normal life"...I've already accepted that...but I hope that with time I can move forward and away from this nightmare. I just have to remember that there is still so much left for me to do and that even in my darkest moments, there's so much to be grateful for.

Anyway, I hope you all have a wonderful 4th of July, and I'll try to update again on here soon!