Still Me By Rashmi

There are moments in life that divide everything into before and after.

Hearing the words, “You have cancer,” is one of them.

For some, there are tears. For others, anger. Some feel numb. Some immediately start asking questions. There is no right way to react.

For me, there were tears. There was fear. Certainly, a lot of anger. There was the inevitable “Why me?” And then, after the whirlwind settled, something unexpected happened.

I found a sense of calm.

It wasn’t because suddenly I wasn’t frightened. I was. But once the initial shock passed, I found myself looking back over my life instead of forward.

And what I saw was gratitude.

I realised how fortunate I have been.

I’ve had the privilege of being a daughter to wonderful parents, a sister, a girlfriend, a wife, and a mother. I’ve fallen in love, raised a child, built a business, laughed until my sides hurt, travelled, celebrated birthdays, mourned losses and collected memories that make up a life.

Not everyone gets that chance.

I think of a fourteen-year-old diagnosed with bone marrow cancer, a child who should have been worrying about exams and friendships instead of chemotherapy.

I think of a dear friend who was only thirty-five when she was diagnosed with breast cancer. She never married. She never had children.

I think of a brilliant nineteen-year-old who left for the UK, full of dreams and excitement, only to be diagnosed with blood cancer. He died within the year.

I knew each of them.

Their stories remind me that life doesn’t measure itself in years. It measures itself in moments, opportunities and love.

That’s why I don’t spend much time asking, “Why me?”

Instead, I find myself thinking, “How lucky I’ve been.”

Of course I want to live. I want to see my grandchildren one day. I want more family dinners, more holidays, more laughter and more ordinary Tuesdays.

I’ll fight for every one of those days.

But whatever lies ahead, I know this much, at 59, I have already had more yesterdays than I will get tomorrows. I have lived a life for which I will always be grateful.

When I meet people who have beaten cancer, they become my heroes.

When I think of those who didn’t, I simply wish I could hold their hand and tell them they are remembered.

Cancer has taught me many things.

Perhaps the greatest of them is this:

Gratitude doesn’t take away the fear.

It simply reminds you how much there is—and has always been—to be thankful for.