u/CitizenLamarr03

Since Thursday I finished my second round of chemo. Friday I spent the day with my mom and a close friend, had a nice dinner, and turned in my work keys from my job. I had a wonderful boss, and that moment hit me harder than I expected.
I’m trying to stay positive, but today just wasn’t a good day for me.
My mom has been doing her absolute best. She keeps asking me what’s wrong, and I get quiet or irritated sometimes because honestly I don’t even know how to explain it sometimes. I think part of it is I don’t feel well physically, but I also don’t want to worry her more than she already is. She’s basically been with me for 3 months straight in my tiny open studio apartment — not much room for privacy lol. Watching me like a hawk. And honestly, I love her deeply for it.
But man… this journey can still feel incredibly lonely even when you’re surrounded by support.
Your friends still have their lives — kids, husbands, wives, jobs, responsibilities, and even their own loved ones going through things too. You start realizing the world keeps moving while your own world feels frozen some days.
And damn… I hate these moods.
Even though I’ve been given an 89–90% survival rate, the amount of chemo I’m on is intense. People hear the survival rate and think that means this experience is somehow easy or less frightening, but it still takes a huge toll on your body, your mind, your energy, your identity, and honestly your spirit some days.
I got tired of endlessly scrolling social media, so I turned to music trying to find anything uplifting. I came across an artist named Nightbirde (Jane Marczewski), who performed on America’s Got Talent while battling cancer. She passed away in 2022, but hearing her outlook on life honestly moved me deeply. She had breast cancer that spread to her spine and was once given only a 2% survival rate.
One thing she said really stayed with me: don’t wait to live your life until things are better before allowing yourself to feel grateful.
I know this may sound corny — and trust me, sometimes it’s hard to hear when you feel like absolute shit — but maybe someone else out there is sitting in the same dark mood I’ve been in today.
If you are, maybe her music or her album might help you a little too

At the beginning of March, I developed a severe cough — the kind where it feels like you’re coughing your lungs out and straining every muscle in your chest. I went to urgent care, where I was prescribed cough syrup and given an inhaler. Around that time, I also noticed swollen lymph nodes in my neck. I mentioned it to the doctor, but since my bloodwork from February had come back normal and I already had an in-person physical scheduled for the first week of April, no additional bloodwork was done. At the time, it seemed reasonable not to panic.

As the weeks progressed, though, I began getting noticeably weaker. I was constantly dizzy, short of breath, unable to stand for long periods, and struggling with balance to the point where I eventually started using a cane for support. I remember one moment where I lost consciousness while trying to get water at home, which I now realize was a major warning sign that something was seriously wrong.

To make things even more confusing, I was also dealing with what doctors initially believed was trigeminal neuralgia. One of my MRIs had shown an artery compressing against the trigeminal nerve, and I was actually scheduled for surgery in late April because of it. At the time, I honestly believed many of my symptoms were connected to that condition, combined with stress and my nervous system being completely overloaded. Looking back now, I know I probably should have gone to the ER sooner. But after a previous experience where I spent nearly 12 hours waiting in the ER only to ultimately be sent home, I convinced myself I could hold out until I saw my primary doctor — someone I had trusted and been with for many years.

After six MRIs, specialists now no longer fully agree with the trigeminal neuralgia diagnosis. I was left with some numbness on the left side of my face, though thankfully the debilitating headaches have stopped, so for now I’ll take the numbness over the pain.

Looking back, there were other warning signs too — night sweats, intense itching, exhaustion — but I brushed some of it off. I’ve always tended to sweat at night, and I kept convincing myself there had to be another explanation.

On the last day of March, my mom encouraged me to get out of the house and run errands with her. With the support of my cane, I took the elevator down in my building, and shortly after reaching the first floor, I collapsed and hit my head. The next thing I remember is being in an ambulance receiving what would become the first of many blood transfusions.

I ended up hospitalized for nearly 25 days while doctors worked to determine exactly what type of lymphoma I had. I was eventually diagnosed with Diffuse Large B-Cell Lymphoma (DLBCL). Because the lymphoma was so aggressive, they ultimately started me on a nonstop 5-day chemotherapy regimen involving three chemotherapy drugs. I’ll continue treatments every 21 days for a total of six rounds.

Ironically, the doctors told me one reason they are treating it so aggressively is because, aside from the lymphoma itself, I’m otherwise healthy and my heart is strong enough to handle the treatment. They also explained that this was not hereditary and that there was nothing I could have done to prevent it. It appeared suddenly, progressed rapidly, and completely blindsided me.

One symptom I rarely see people talk about enough is the skin issues. Did anyone else experience severe itching or extremely dry, scaly skin? I scratched so much that I literally broke skin and left scabs on my body. I’ve managed to get some of it under control with a heavy moisturizer regimen, but it’s still not completely gone.

Another thing that has been extremely difficult mentally.