Is it still alright to hope when deep within you know that the reality is far from hopeful?
2015 has been a challenging and a learning year for me. I have done things I never imagined myself capable of, some of which will be unsaid forever and go with me to my grave. I took a leap of faith and decided to quit treatment and go to Europe. I was over-ambitious and planned a trip for three months. I lasted a month only to come back home to find I no longer had any treatment options left to try.
My only option was another Stem Cell Transplant. Now I'm sure I've told you before how painful it was to go through it two years ago. I thought long and hard and realised that I still have a lot of life in me to give up just yet. My visit to Europe opened a new world to me. A world I wanted to explore and experience. I decided I wasn't ready to die, not yet anyway. So I said YES to the Stem Cell Transplant.
Now I deceived myself into believing that I would get through the first and the more painful transplant just like I did two years. I forgot that my mind and body had gone through several painful treatments in the last two years and were much more badgered than I had anticipated.
Two days in the hospital and I started to feel suffocated in the environment. Nightmares both with my eyes open and closed kept me in a state of constant panic. Everyday seemed to be my last as I lay almost lifeless on that hospital bed waiting for it to end, waiting for the pain to go away, waiting for something to change for once in my life.
Three weeks of misery and constant battling with the medical staff enabled me to get back home. I went and stayed at my parents' home for nearly three weeks. My home no longer felt like mine, the bad dreams would come back and haunt me and I remained at my parents' place.
I finally decided to face my demons head on and moved back to my place. With each day gone, it became easier and I slowly started finding comfort in my own surroundings and belongings.
And all this while I struggled to look at myself in the mirror. I didn't recognise the bald face staring back at me. Each morning I would wake up hoping that somehow miraculously I would have my hair back. Why is physical appearance so important to me? Why does what the world think matter so much to me? Why is there this stigma attached to looking different?
While dealing with my own battles, each day brings other battles within my family. With each day gone, I feel more detached and withdrawn from them. I am slowly hiding in my cocoon and my shell grows bigger with each battle lost.
And here I am at the junction of the next phase of my treatment - a donor stem cell transplant. It not only takes nearly a year to recover from, it also brings several complications with it including a chance of it completely failing even with a perfect match. Now its very easy for the medical staff to say - Live one day a time and the year will be gone in the blink of an eye. Will it? Life as I know is about to change and I may never be me again. I mean really I'll have a new immune system, new blood group, need vaccinations like a newborn and have any medical issues my donor aka my sister has.
How does one know all this and still be normal and still get going with each day as normal? How does one still maintain the Ray of Hope that there's light at the end of the tunnel? How do you believe that everything will be Okay at the end of the day? How do I know whats normal anymore and how to be it?
