I awoke to the shrilling call of an alarm coming from my phone by the windowsill. I leaned over to shut it off, and looked around the room to find the disaster zone I had left myself the night before.
My gold sequin dress was thrown over my desk chair paired with my jet-black heels sitting on the floor below. Presents covered the floor as well as shiny new champagne and wine bottles decorated with glitter and ribbons.
My 21st birthday had officially come to a close, after a wonderful night spent with friends in a beautiful white stretch limo my parents had gotten for me as a surprise. The surprise was accompanied by a phone call from them stating how proud they were of me this semester for my accomplishments and wonderful grades, and how I deserved a night off with the girls.
October 1st was my night.
I was celebrating my coming of age. A wonderful time in every young adult’s life where they gain access to their full set of rights within the United States. I was having the time of my life, and nothing could bring me down.
That was until I set foot out of my bed on the morning of Oct. 2, 2013.
As my two feet touched the floor, I felt a rush through my body that sent me hurtling towards the ground. As I pulled myself up, I began to feel a pounding sensation within the back of my head that streamed into the left side of my neck.
This was one hell of a hangover, or so I thought.
I dragged myself to the mirror by my door so I could observe the damage I had done to myself the night before. I looked everywhere to find some hint as to what I had done to myself, and could not find a single bruise or scar. I decided to get ready for class, simply believing I could work through the pain.
Yet as the days continued on, the pain only intensified. The evening before returning home for Fall Break, I looked into the mirror searching for an answer as to what was happening to me. As I pulled my hair back into a twist before bed, I had found my answer.
As I pulled my hair back, a lump was revealed on the left side of my neck. This lump would eventually grow to be the size of a Ping-Pong ball.
The following day I returned to Maryland, where I began the darkest journeys of my lifetime.
I was taken to the doctor who immediately referred me to a Head and Neck Surgeon. The following visits included biopsies, MRIs, X-rays, and numerous tests to see what was attacking my vulnerable body.
Two days before I was set to return to High Point, I sat down with the surgeon to discuss the findings within the test results. I only registered one word that resonated from his lips, and it shook my world like an earthquake.
Lymphoma.
I’ve heard it said that when one receives bad news that their world stops for a brief moment in time. The sound of silence overcomes the passing traffic, your heart misses a beat, your mind cannot conjure up a simple thought, and you feel as though you are slipping away from life itself.
It’s true.
Hours later, questions began to circulate in my head as I attempted to grasp the fact that I could have cancerous cells resonating throughout my weakening body. I tried to return to school with a sense of normalcy, thinking that the tests would show that it was benign and I could return to my life once again.
Two days after I returned to High Point, I was sent back home for surgery.
Life as I knew it, was ending.
I began to prepare myself for what lay ahead. I knew there was a possibility that I would never return to school again. I began pulling my long hair back and tying scarves around my head, in order for me to grasp what it would be like for me to lose my hair during Chemotherapy.
There were many nights I spent behind closed doors weeping in front of a mirror as my head was wrapped in a printed scarf, as I penned goodbye letters to my loved ones. I could not show my family my vulnerability, so I penned my feelings to them while maintaining my dignity.
On Nov. 5th, I entered surgery.
I would either leave the hospital healthy or with a well-known statement that Lymphoma was going to continue devastating my body.
I was chasing life.
I decided that no matter what was to happen, I would continue to live a life worth living, even if my time were to be cut short.
On Nov. 11th, I received the phone call that changed my life.
The surgeon, who once told me traces of Lymphoma resonated in my neck, was now giving me the greatest gift I have ever received.
I was cancer free.
As I now approach my one-year anniversary of being cancer free, I have come away with a greater appreciation for life.
When you do not feel like attending class, get out of bed and appreciate your good health. When you see an individual in a wheel chair, be sure to hold the door for them and be thankful for the ability to walk. When you are complaining about a bad hair day, run your fingers through your hair and be grateful that you have it.
Remember to breath in the fresh air each day, find joy in the simple things in life, and love as much as possible.
According to the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society, 20,170 people are expected to die from lymphoma this coming year.
And I am thrilled to say that I will not be apart of that statistic.