AYA Cancer

Roe v. Wade: A Call to Stand with Our Herd

By now many of you are aware of the overturning of Roe v. Wade, and the amount of backlash from the cancer community.

The Steven G. Cancer Foundation and Elephants and Tea initially took to social media asking people to listen to the stories of those individuals impacted by Roe v. Wade.

Was that enough? No. Can we do more? Definitely.

My Work as a Death Doula

“Well, the results aren’t what we were hoping…” my doctor said, closing the door behind her. “But the good news is this usually responds really well to treatment, and you won’t have to do chemo.”

We talked for a while longer, and then she offered up, “I mean, I’ve seen people with thyroid cancer all over their body live another 20 years.”

I think it was meant to be soothing, but I couldn’t help but feel like it wasn’t quite relevant to me. Not to mention, it contradicted her speculation just moments ago that my chance of recurrence after surgery would be very low.

My Path into the Cancer Field

I was seven years old the first time I told my mom I wanted to grow up to be a “talking doctor.” If that does not scream childhood cancer survivor, I am not sure what does. I grew up knowing that I wanted to help others like myself, who faced cancer head-on and made it out on the other side. My family helped to found the Armenian Bone Marrow Donor Registry because so many Armenians had registered to see if they were a match during my first diagnosis with AML.

A Season of Healing

They said it would get harder as I go, and it’s getting harder.

The side effects from my sixth chemo treatment were the worst I’ve had so far. The fatigue over the weekend was intense and left me feeling too weak to move. Talking and breathing were a big effort.

Instead of going away and leaving me with some light nausea into the week, the fatigue lightened but hasn’t lifted. It’s really hard to effectively explain the feeling of being so weak.

Embracing the Bittersweet

Life consists of moments: moments of joy, pain, wonder, and suffering. Life consists of moments: moments of growth and change, followed by periods of stability and stagnation. As a culture, we set our course trajectory at a young age through careful planning of momentous milestones. We dream about turning 16 and getting our first car, we dream about high school graduations, college life, finding love, starting a career, and a family. And I was no different; I had set my course at a young age and was focused on my path.

This is My Journey So Far

It’s been a long past two and a half years for me. The pandemic hit me hard. I lost my grandfather and grandmother due to COVID, lost my job, and had two minor surgeries on my uterus for fibroids one year apart. Just when I thought it was about to be a good year in 2022, February 23, 2022 is when it all started.

Am I Surviving “Right”?

I thought I had never experienced survivor’s guilt. The idea of guilt over surviving didn’t fit with the way I understand my feelings about the trauma of cancer, which we know can have many layers for us young adults. In the losses I’ve experienced since becoming a part of this community, I have felt utter heartbreak, outrage at how unfair life can be, and despair over the realization that we are not in control. But not guilt over being alive. Or so I thought.

Surviving Guilt

When I’m asked about whether or not I have experienced survivor’s guilt as it pertains to my existence here in this life with cancer, it’s an unrestrained “absolutely”. Simply put, I have no idea why I’m still here and others are not. Over my years of survivorship, I have met so many beautiful souls who understand what it’s like to be faced with the unbearable news that cancer has become this unwelcome part of your life.

My Existence

Let’s start at the beginning. From the moment you receive a cancer diagnosis, you tend to question your entire existence on this earth. Why did this happen to me of all people? What did I do that was so wrong in life? Why was I placed on this earth to suffer like this? So many unanswered questions. How do I even begin to understand let alone explain my heartache, sorrow, and pain over the years?

Listen to Your Body

For 34 years, I’ve choked down close to 50 pills a day, as part of a daily regimen to manage cystic fibrosis. But one bitter pill I wasn’t prepared to swallow was hearing the words, “You have Stage IV colon cancer.”

I think about the doctor’s words now as I grieve the life I almost got to have, one that seems like a distant dream. The nightmare call came less than two years after I started TriKafta, a life-changing drug that turned a death sentence into a chronic illness, managed with medications and treatments.