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To Whom It May Concern:
I strongly believe that age is just a number.
There was a point in my cancer journey when I bargained with God. I asked him why he allowed me to get diagnosed in my twenties and wished he could have changed the timing to at least my forties or fifties.
I hated the fact that I got diagnosed in my twenties, and I had a hard time letting it go.
I hated being the youngest one receiving chemotherapy in the Infusion Suite.
I hated when all the older cancer patients in the Infusion Suite would shamelessly stare at me.
I hated when one doctor bluntly told me, “You are the youngest breast cancer patient I encountered during my thirty years of practice.” I sarcastically sassed him and joked, “Oh great. So does that mean you’ll give me special treatment?” He was incapable of quick-wit and banter since God only gifted him with book smarts, so he stayed silent.
I gave him the Gellars’ version of the middle finger in my head and concluded that he had shitty bedside manner. #Sorrynotsorry
I hated interacting with my friends. I remember my first few outings with my friends post-treatment and pre-covid19. Everyone was complaining about the trashy dating scene in NYC, zits, break ups, and incompetent bosses. I bargained again with God and wished their problems were my problems.
I’ve always been the youngest in most aspects of my life, and I never liked it for a vast majority of reasons. Getting diagnosed in my late twenties felt like the cherry on top.
I am the youngest in my family. In Korean culture, it is proper etiquette to pay your elders with respect at all times such as speaking more formally, obeying commands, and even pouring/receiving soju in a specific way.
I was one of the youngest in my Master’s program.
I am the youngest on the management team at work.
I was the youngest breast cancer patient the doctor had encountered during his thirty years of practice.
As time went on, I stopped bargaining with God and started to accept my reality. I finally accepted the fact that there was absolutely nothing I could do to erase my history and started looking on the bright side.
Being the youngest in my family means that I get all the doting and love, and I’m honestly here for it.
Being one of the youngest in grad school shows that my hard work got me there, not my age.
Being younger than my colleagues at work has nothing to do with my skills, competence, and leadership. I’ve had bosses who were much older than me throughout my profession, and some flat out sucked.
I am now at a point in my survivorship where all my pre-cancer problems are no longer my problems, where all my pre-cancer fears are no longer my fears, and where my pre-cancer aversions are no longer my aversions.
I don’t complain much anymore since it feels like my only real problem is cancer. I don’t fear much anymore since my only real fear is recurrence. I don’t hate much anymore since I choose to focus on the beautiful blessings in my life.
Life has become much more intentional and efficient, and I enjoy looking at life through a more refined lens. The lessons I learned from cancer are lessons I probably would have learned throughout my life anyway, but I’m sure much later on. Cancer just expedited everything.
Side note: don’t get me wrong. I love being youthful. I still laugh out loud when someone farts. I live for memes on Instagram. I love watching Disney movies. I prank my boyfriend on the daily. I invest in clean, anti-aging skincare products. You get the picture.
But, my point is this: I am now proud of my age and everything I’ve been able to accomplish inside and outside of cancer.
Again, age is just a number.
If you are like me and sometimes hate the fact that you got diagnosed at a young age and feel like none of your friends understand you, I want you to know that your feelings are completely valid. I do want to encourage you, though, to look at your situation from a different angle and realize this:
You are special because you will learn lessons and gain a certain level of understanding of life that most people in this world may not have the opportunity to experience. The lessons you learn and choose to practice will set you apart, in a good way.
Do you also agree that age is just a number? How old were you when you were diagnosed?
Breast regards,
Michelle
