Walking Through Cancer Alone, But Never Lonely

When I first heard the word cancer, it felt like the ground disappeared beneath my feet. I was diagnosed with stage 1 ALK-positive lung cancer, something that seemed impossible for someone like me — a non-smoker, living a relatively healthy life. My initial symptoms were mild, just an intermittent cough that came and went. A family member noticed it first and mentioned that maybe I should go to the doctor. I brushed it aside thinking that it was probably just a bug and that it would resolve itself. Life was moving as usual until I had COVID in 2022 and some other issues. I then went to my physician and a deeper investigation began.

A few tests and nine months later, I was handed my first diagnosis: non-small cell lung cancer.

The world went quiet for a moment. There were tests, scans, conversations about treatment options, finances, work — and then there was me, standing in the middle of it all, trying to make sense of what this meant for my life, my present and future.

The surgery was going to take another month to get scheduled. By then I was already fed up with the wait times and was thinking of flying to India to get the surgery done. Once I informed the doctor’s office, they turned around and scheduled it for sooner.

I went through the surgery thinking life would return to normal with cancer gone from my body. The surgery was successful but the symptoms returned fairly quickly. Four months later I got my second diagnosis, that the cancer had returned and it was stage 4.

People often ask me how I managed it “alone.” The truth is — I wasn’t alone. Yes, I didn’t have a partner by my side, no one to drive me to appointments or hold my hand through long hospital corridors. But I had something deeper — my faith, my inner strength, courage and optimistic outlook. They became my quiet companions.

And I had my family, friends and neighbors — their love, messages, and small acts of kindness reminded me that even when you walk by yourself through something as heavy as cancer, you’re still surrounded by care. They checked in, cheered me up and gave me strength. I learned to accept help without feeling guilty or feeling the need to reciprocate.

I took things one day at a time, sometimes one breath at a time. I didn’t try to see too far ahead — I just focused on the next small step. Over time, I realized that hope isn’t something you wait for — it’s something you build.

My relationships changed in ways I didn’t expect. A couple of friends drifted away — not out of cruelty, but their own discomfort. Some family members I thought would show up never did in the way I expected they would. Illness can make people nervous; it forces them to confront their own fears. At first, that hurt. But I also discovered who truly cared. My circle grew smaller and that only meant creating space for those that are aligned.

Cancer brought me face to face with mortality. It stripped me away from the unnecessary and showed me what truly matters — the present moment and the sacredness of being alive.

Today, I live with cancer, but I don’t let it define me. I choose to define my story by courage, trust, and hope. I’ve learned that even when life changes overnight, you can still choose how you show up for it.

For me, that means showing up with faith — not blind faith, but a steady trust that life, in all its mystery, still holds love, purpose and light.

This piece reflects the author’s personal experience and perspective. For medical advice, please consult your health care provider.

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