How Cancer at 23 Taught Me to Love My Body

I was 23 years old. I had recently graduated from college, returned from a life-changing trip to Kenya, moved into my cool apartment in downtown Philly, and settled into my first "real" job. I was lovin' life and out to change the world. And then, I found a pea-sized lump above my collarbone. For some reason, it just didn't feel right. I wanted to pretend it wasn't there, to believe in the invincibility of youth. But, thankfully, I listened to my gut and went to the doctor. It was a snowball effect, or more like an avalanche, from that visit on. I had a biopsy and anxiously awaited the results. My dad came to be with me at my apartment the afternoon we were expecting The Call. I'm forever grateful that he did, because The Call revealed my fear and changed my life. Cancer. Hodgkin's Lymphoma. A very treatable kind, they said. Usually effective, they said. Blah, blah, blah... I could only hear "You have cancer. You could die." After I recovered from the initial sucker punch to the gut, I regained my breath and got into action. At the time, people said I was handling it with such courage and grace. I felt that I was just doing what I had to do, as anyone would. Fifteen years later, I can now see and appreciate the strength I had as young woman. I can let the compliment in. At the time, I just focused on healing my body and keeping my fear from taking over. Chemotherapy. Radiation. The whole shebang. I had no appetite. My white cell counts dropped...
Source: Healthy Living - The Huffington Post - Category: Consumer Health News Source Type: news