For my 20th birthday, my best friends threw me a surprise birthday party. It was the first of many surprises that year and in the years to follow. Surprises that lead me here, speaking to all of you, and as you might have guessed, not all of them were as happy as a surprise birthday party.
I imagined my 20s as any young woman probably would. I would have my first alcoholic beverage, graduate college, and begin my career. Maybe I would even meet that special someone, get married, settle down, and start a family of my own. Instead, I had to face the very real possibility that I might not live to experience any of those things.
Five months into my 20s, I was diagnosed with Leukemia. I woke up one morning in my apartment in Los Angeles where I was attending school, and by that night I was in the emergency room at Swedish Hospital, in Seattle. I will never forget that day. [Pause Look at audience]
I was quickly transferred from Swedish to Seattle Children’s Hospital, where I endured 8 months of outpatient chemotherapy and 10 days of radiation. One month into treatment, I was declared in remission, and thankfully have remained there ever since. Although I was comforted to know that my body was responding well to treatments, the following 7 months of infusions, procedures and isolation did well to remind me just how fragile life really is.
I lived every day of that eight months as best I could. Some days I was almost normal, I would throw a wig on, some of my “real clothes,” and some makeup, and I would be, almost, me. Of course, that version of me had to sit down often, be out for shorter lengths of time and constantly have crackers, water and nausea medication on hand, but beggars can’t be choosers. Those days quickly became known as, “the good days,” and though there weren’t as many as I would have liked, there were far more than I expected.
Unfortunately, along with “good days” came “bad days.” Days where I was too tired or too sick to get out of bed, days where I experienced the “rare” side effect of a new chemo, and endless days spent in the hospital being told that my blood counts were not high enough for me to go home. Besides my physical challenges, I mourned my old self. I was sad to be missing out on the life that I should have been living, sad at the thought of maybe never being able to live it, and sad because I missed being me.
Gratefully, I am now 22 and have been in remission for just over two years. I have been finished with my intense treatment for almost a year and a half, I will finish my two years of maintenance chemotherapy in August, and aside from this hip I’m about to get replaced, I feel amazing. I feel like me. Not the old me, the me that I was before I got sick, but like a new me. Just as familiar as the old version, but so much better.
Yes, I said better. I went through this horrible ordeal at a rare and critical time in my life, so how could I possibly be better than I was before? I will tell you. The old me did not understand or appreciate life the way I do now. As a result of my illness I was abruptly forced to mature, I felt catapulted into adulthood. Instantly, it was as if I could actually grasp the worth of all of the life lessons I had ever heard, and I could finally see how to put them into practice in my own life.
The new me, the new Katherine, appreciates the world and all of its beauty and blessings. She stares a little bit longer at the moon on a clear night, or the mountain on a sunny day. She knows the strength of a community, and the power of a few kind words from a total stranger. She understands how infinitely lucky she is to have the undying love and devotion of her overwhelmingly supportive family and friends. And more than anything, I know how blessed I am to still be here and be allowed the opportunity to appreciate all of those things.
I am still here because of people like you, and events like this, that raise money for cancer research and resources. As of now, there is no cure for cancer, but I am living proof that things are getting better. Slowly, but surely, research and funding have been improving cancer treatments and improving survival rates. And although, as some of us know, all too well, the treatments don’t always work the way we want them to, we know that with continued support of foundations like the American Cancer Society,
and participation in events like Relay for Life, we can play a part in ensuring that the result of cancer treatment is what we want it to be, every single time.