We Live in Time: A Cancer Survivor’s True Story

As I sit here today, I am reminded of the fleeting nature of life. Just a few years ago, I was faced with a daunting diagnosis that threatened to cut my time short. Cancer. The word alone is enough to strike fear into the hearts of many. But it’s not just the word – it’s the reality of what comes with it. The treatments, the pain, the uncertainty.

I was diagnosed with stage III rectal cancer in 2018, when I was just 32 years old. I had been experiencing symptoms for months – fatigue, bleeding, and stomach pain – but I had brushed them off as a minor gastrointestinal issue. It wasn’t until I saw my primary care physician that the gravity of the situation became clear.

The next few weeks were a blur of doctor’s appointments, tests, and biopsies. The news was not good. Cancer had spread to lymph nodes near my colon, and I would need immediate treatment.

I was given the option of chemotherapy and radiation, followed by surgery to remove the tumor. The thought of undergoing months of treatment, with all its side effects, was daunting. But I knew I had no choice.

The weeks that followed were a rollercoaster of emotions. I felt like I was living in a never-ending nightmare. The chemotherapy was brutal – exhaustion, hair loss, and endless vomiting. But I was determined to fight. I was determined to beat this thing.

And then, there were the moments of clarity – moments when I felt alive, if only for a brief second. It was as if I had been given a glimpse of what life was like outside of the hospital room, outside of the treatment schedule, outside of the mundane routine of cancer care.

During one particularly tough week, I remember feeling like I couldn’t take it anymore. The pain was excruciating, and the exhaustion was crippling. I broke down in tears, sobbing uncontrollably on the shoulder of my partner. But in that moment, something shifted. I realized that I was still alive, that I was still fighting, that I still had a purpose.

And so, I continued to fight. I continued to push through the pain and the fatigue. I continued to believe in myself, even when the darkest moments seemed to stretch on forever.

It’s been three years since my diagnosis, and I am proud to say that I am in remission. I have undergone surgery, and the tumor is gone. But I know that cancer is still a part of my life. It will always be a part of my life.

I have learned, though, that time is precious. We often take it for granted, don’t we? We rush through our days, our weeks, our months, never truly stopping to appreciate the beauty and fragility of life. I have learned to cherish every moment, no matter how small.

I still have days when I struggle – days when I feel like I am still living in that hospital room, fighting for my life. But I also have days when I feel like I am soaring. Days when I look out at the world with fresh eyes, with a sense of wonder and awe.

That’s the thing about cancer. It may take your time, but it can’t take away the beauty of living. It may take your energy, but it can’t take away the love in your heart. It may take your memories, but it can’t take away the moments of clarity that make life worth fighting for.

So, I guess what I’m saying is this: yes, we live in time. We live in a world where cancer and other illnesses can strike at any moment, taking away that which is most precious to us. But we also live in a world where beauty and wonder and love are always present, waiting to be seized.

To anyone who has ever been touched by cancer, I see you. I see your strength, your resilience, your humanity. And to anyone who has ever lost someone to cancer, I see you too. I see your grief, your pain, your loneliness. But I also see your heroism, your courage, your unyielding love.

We live in time, but we also live in the present. And in this present moment, I choose to cherish every second, every breath, every moment of living. For in the end, that’s all we really have – time to live, to love, to laugh, to cry, to fight, and to cherish the beauty of life itself.