Still Me By Rashmi

One of the things cancer has taught me is that people don’t always know what to say.

Some disappear because they’re afraid of saying the wrong thing.

Some become wonderfully practical.

Some become unexpectedly brave.

And some simply love you exactly as they always have.

During my four rounds of A&C chemotherapy, the daughter of one of my closest friends was getting married.

It was a destination wedding.

In my mind, the decision had already been made.

I wasn’t going.

Between chemotherapy, fatigue and trying to avoid infections, it just didn’t seem possible.

Then my friend sent me a message.

“This place is beautiful. You have to make it, dear. It won’t be the same without my BEST female friend.”

I smiled… but still thought he was being optimistic.

A little later another message arrived.

“I’ll arrange a special car. We’ll send food to your room if you don’t feel like coming down. Come only for thirty minutes if that’s all you can manage. Whatever works for you.”

He wasn’t asking me to pretend I was well.

He was making room for me exactly as I was.

At my next appointment, I mentioned it to my oncologist.

I expected him to laugh and tell me to stay home.

Instead, he said,

“So go.”

I must have looked surprised because he smiled and continued,

“Wear a mask. Stay outdoors as much as possible. Think of it as COVID precautions.”

That was it.

Permission granted.

Suddenly I found myself packing.

I packed my wig first. Priorities. The clothes could sort themselves out later.

And probably more medication than any holidaymaker has ever taken on a destination wedding.

And do you know what?

It was one of the happiest decisions I made during treatment.

I laughed.

I celebrated.

I even danced for nearly an hour. The wig stayed put, which frankly deserves a standing ovation of its own.

For those few days, I wasn’t “the lady with cancer.”

I wasn’t counting blood tests or chemotherapy sessions.

I was simply…

me.

Looking back, I realise my friend and his lovely wife gave me far more than an invitation to a wedding.

They reminded me that life doesn’t have to stop while treatment is happening.

Sometimes it just needs a few adjustments.

A shorter evening.

A quieter corner.

A mask.

 Friends who say,

“Come anyway.”

We spend so much time worrying about what the “right” thing to say is when someone is unwell.

Perhaps it doesn’t have to be perfect.

Perhaps sometimes the greatest gift is simply making sure they still have a place at the table.

I’m so grateful they did.

Because for one beautiful weekend…

I forgot to be a patient.

I was just Rashmi.