Week Seven of Chemotherapy

This past week of chemotherapy was a pretty easy one. I say that, but if you asked my husband, he would tell you it was the same as usual. He doesn’t like to see me sick at all, even a little bit. So although I think it was an easy cycle, he will tell you otherwise. Saturday and Sunday I felt gross but not as gross as usual. Friday I was able to get through class with no glitches and worked out afterwards. Monday I was able to do a bunch of things around the house, recorded a podcast, and did an Instagram live in the evening. 

I got some really sad news on Sunday night, though. I knew that it was coming, but to hear it confirmed, quite honestly, sucked. It’s been weighing heavily on my heart ever since getting the news, and I’m trying to not think about it, but it’s really hard. Sunday night I found out that one of my former students that has been going through treatment for cancer (since 2019), has only a few weeks left to live. I’ve known her since before she was diagnosed with cancer and we always had a really great relationship. When she was diagnosed with cancer I didn’t get to see her as much because she was not in school, but she continued to get tutored and despite going through treatment for all of her junior and senior years, she graduated high school last June. 

When she would come to school to do some work or just to hang out and be around people, she and I would chat and it was always so great to see her. She was always positive and never acted scared at all. I remember when we found out she had cancer, I looked at her and thought that she was way stronger than me to go through cancer treatment (as if she had a choice). I remember thinking, “I could never do that, she is so strong”. She would tell me and her case manager about her port, the various procedures she had to have, and what chemotherapy was like. I always was amazed at how she never seemed phased as she would tell the stories, like they were just a typical thing every teenager goes through. 

It seemed like she was getting treatment forever, and I would ask her case manager every now and then how things were going. At the time, I didn’t know anything about cancer treatment or how long it takes to get through it all, and it seemed like she was never going to get done with treatment. Come to find out, she would continue to fight for her life for almost two straight years. I won’t say she lost the battle with cancer because this girl didn’t lose anything. She gained so many things. She gained the respect of probably everyone she met over the past two years, including myself. 

Now, as her journey moves from this world to the next, I find myself feeling angry and frustrated that she is being taken from me. We were supposed to go on this journey together. When I found out I had cancer, I let her know, and she was there helping me through a lot of the diagnostic process. She would make me feel less scared about chemotherapy and I needed that, big time. She made me feel way better to know that we were in this together and I even dyed my hair blue to match her hair. More than anything, I’m angry that there is no cure for her. It’s not fair that she had her life cut so short. She wanted to be an interior designer. She wanted to go to college. Now, she won’t get to. 

In the past three two years, though, since getting her diagnosis, she made such a huge impact on the lives of so many, including my own. I know everyone says to people who are going through cancer, “you’re so strong” but this girl really was so strong. She did two years worth of high school while going through chemotherapy and radiation, and as someone who is going through the same thing, I can attest to how hard what she did was. Her last few months she has been dancing through cancer treatment, and posts videos on Instagram of her doing various routines and it has been so nice to see her so happy, even though I know she has been in a lot of pain. She never showed that side of things, she was always so darn positive and was fighting and unwilling to give up, and she never did. She didn’t want to admit that this was a battle that she couldn’t win, and perhaps when it comes right down to it, it’s not about winning or losing, it’s just about the direction the path is headed. We don’t get to decide where our path leads, we just have to follow it and trust that it’s where we are meant to go. 

I told her last night that when I get to heaven I’ll talk to her about everything. I told her that I couldn’t have faced cancer without her by my side. I said that I couldn’t wait to talk to her again in heaven and that she would have to give me a tour of the place. That it is ok to be scared and that I will be scared, too, when I die. But that soon she won’t be scared and she’ll wonder why she was so afraid to go to heaven in the first place, that when she gets there she will be free of pain. This morning, she wrote back. I don’t know if I will hear from her again, because I don’t know how much longer she has. She told me that she loves me so much. And if I never talk to her again until I get to heaven, then I’ll be ok, because I know that we will speak again one day. And we won’t have to ever say goodbye to each other again.