From a young age, the concept of mortality held a strange fascination for me. I vividly recall attending my great-grandfather’s funeral at the tender age of three, my innocent questions about his whereabouts met with the gentle assurance of heaven. While my childhood understanding of an afterlife has evolved, the contemplation of life’s finite nature has remained a constant undercurrent in my thoughts.
Today, I view death simply as the cessation of life. While this perspective might seem somber, it fuels a surprising optimism within me. The universality of death, the inevitable endpoint we all share, paradoxically liberates me from dwelling on its shadow. Occasional existential musings still surface, those fleeting moments questioning life’s purpose, but they quickly dissipate, realizing that the answer, or lack thereof, doesn’t fundamentally alter the way I choose to live. My journey with cancer has indelibly shaped this reality.
In 2012, at sixteen, an overwhelming fatigue descended upon me, accompanied by frequent and alarming nosebleeds. A visit to the emergency room at Children’s Hospital Los Angeles led to a diagnosis that would redefine my adolescence: acute lymphoblastic leukemia (ALL). In the initial haze of the diagnosis, the gravity of the situation eluded me. The attending physician’s hopeful words about a potential cure through treatment painted a picture of cancer as a resolvable infection, a temporary detour on the path to wellness. Fear was absent; instead, a sense of impatience to begin the next steps took hold. However, these steps unfolded into years of arduous treatment and two relapses, a stark contrast to the minor setback I had initially envisioned.
The Rollercoaster of Remission and Relapse
My initial chemotherapy journey spanned three grueling phases: induction, consolidation, and maintenance. Three years of relentless treatment yielded only a fleeting remission. In the fall of 2016, mere months after completing this initial treatment, a distressing blur clouded the vision in my left eye. A comprehensive ocular and neurologic examination revealed the unsettling truth: retinal vasculitis, a rare and isolated manifestation of relapsed ALL. This diagnosis ushered in another 2.5 years of chemotherapy and radiation therapy, treatments that thankfully restored my sight and granted another, albeit short-lived, remission.
The year 2020 arrived, marked by the global upheaval of the COVID-19 pandemic. Amidst this backdrop, I began experiencing familiar symptoms: body aches and high fevers, mirroring the coronavirus. However, blood tests sounded a different alarm – a dangerously high white blood cell count, a chilling indicator of cancer’s return. A bone marrow biopsy confirmed the dreaded recurrence. This time, the treatment intensity escalated, surpassing the previous regimens in its grueling nature. I endured two chimeric antigen receptor (CAR) T-cell therapies, the second as part of a clinical study, alongside further chemotherapy, radiation therapy, and finally, an allogeneic stem cell transplant.
Today, I stand cancer-free, a testament to the relentless advancements in medical science and the unwavering dedication of my healthcare team.
Life Redefined: Beyond Cancer
Cancer irrevocably stole my adolescence and cast a shadow over my young adulthood. The trajectory my life might have taken without this disease remains a poignant unknown, though I envision myself well-established in a career in education by now. Despite recently earning a master’s degree in philosophy, a sense of being perpetually behind my peers persists, a feeling of constantly striving to catch up.
My existence is a tapestry woven with contradictions. My cancer experience has undoubtedly fostered a maturity beyond my years, yet it coexists with an unexpected impulsivity. The awareness of life’s uncertain duration fuels a willingness to take chances, a double-edged sword with both positive and negative consequences. Intellectually, I hold the perspective that life encompasses far greater hardships than cancer, rendering minor disappointments insignificant. Consequently, I find little patience for trivial complaints from others; life, in its precious brevity, is simply too short for such grievances.
Seeking Holistic Care: Beyond Survival
As a first-generation Latino and gay man, gratitude for the life-saving, high-quality medical care I received has always been paramount. During treatment, the thought of requesting additional support – emotional counseling or sexual health guidance – felt almost presumptuous, selfish even. Survival was, and rightfully so, the primary focus of my oncology team. However, I believe truly comprehensive medical care should extend beyond the purely physical, encompassing the entirety of the human experience.
Embracing the Present: A Lesson in Fragility
Recently, I witnessed a jarring scene: an elderly man struck by a car in a pedestrian crosswalk. While, thankfully, his injuries were not severe, the incident served as a stark reminder of life’s inherent fragility, a truth that transcends the presence or absence of cancer. It underscored the critical importance of living each day to its fullest, cherishing the present moment with whatever time remains.
Three years ago, I faced a second cancer recurrence, and the possibility of a third, or another unforeseen hardship, looms in the future. Cancer, in its profound and pragmatic way, has instilled in me the urgency to maximize the present, to savor the act of living in each fleeting moment.
Mr. Peralta lives in Inglewood, California.
Editor’s Note: Columns in the Patient’s Corner are based solely on information The ASCO Post received from patients and should be considered anecdotal.
