When I was 16, I was diagnosed with stage 2 nodular sclerosing hodgkin's lymphoma. 

Cancer is just one word, but one hundred different feelings associated with it. My name is Jenna, and this is the story of how I beat my biggest enemy.             

It began with some aggressive coughing, for weeks I was struggling to breathe and felt like I was choking on the air I was inhaling.  After six weeks of persistent coughing, I began to feel sore when lifting my left arm.  This later progressed into a large mass located around the collarbone. I was nauseous, lightheaded, and more than anything else, sore.  I went to see our school nurse, who referred me to urgent care where I went the following morning.  That morning was when my life changed.  I was taken in for X-rays on the assumption that I had broken my collarbone.  Not long after, the nurse came in to refer me to the hospital. The tests and scans quickly transitioned from being procedural to urgent. I was told I needed a biopsy the following morning.

I am not sure if I ever slept that night in my hospital bed.  The next thing I remember was my surgeon and doctor walking into my room.  

The days following my diagnosis were a whirlwind of hospital visits, consultations, and treatment plans. I was introduced to my new vocabulary: chemotherapy, remission, and the never-ending list of medications I was prescribed to take. Chemotherapy was particularly challenging. No matter how much Benadryl I was given, it never seemed to help. I had heard about the side effects—nausea, fatigue, hair loss—but experiencing them firsthand was a feeling like no other. The medication that was supposed to save me also made me feel as though I was being drained of life. There were days when even the simplest tasks felt unreachable. I watched myself decay in the mirror every day, I watched myself transform.  Although I did not lose all my hair to cancer, I decided to shave it anyway.  The feeling of my hair falling out in massive quantities made it harder to look at myself every day, my once waist-length hair was now on my shoulders.  Shaving it felt like my only option at that moment. Yet, amid the physical trials, there were moments of unexpected beauty. My friends, coworkers, and family rallied around me with support. Each word of encouragement, every shared smile, and each small act of kindness became my source of strength.

Cancer is as much a mental battle as it is a physical one. The fear of the unknown, the anxiety about the future, and the emotional rollercoaster of treatment often felt immensely impossible. There were days when it was all foggy. The fear of the disease progressing, of the treatment failing, was a constant thought. Yet, in this turmoil, I discovered a part of inner resilience I had not known existed. I began to celebrate the small victories—the days when I felt strong enough to take a short walk and when I could enjoy a meal without vomiting. I found my love for writing, pouring my emotions onto paper, and creating a narrative out of my story. Meditation and mindfulness also became vital tools in managing mental strain. Learning to focus on the present moment, to appreciate each day as it came, helped me navigate through the uncertainty. It was a practice in finding peace amidst the storm, a way to regain some control over my life. 

With time, the treatments began to show results. The relentless cycle of chemotherapy was replaced by the process of remission. My strength returned, and I began to reclaim parts of my life that cancer had taken from me. The journey was far from over, but each milestone was a testament to my true self and the incredible support that had stood by me.  Battling cancer has reshaped my perspective on life. I have learned to appreciate the simple things in life and the moments of calm during the chaos. The struggle I went through has made me more grateful for the everyday miracles that many often overlook. Cancer has been a harsh teacher, one that forced me to confront my deepest fears and test limits, but it also revealed my inner strength and the capacity for hope and healing. My journey is not just about the disease but about the courage to face it, the love that surrounds me, and the resilience that has emerged from deep within.

As I continue this path, I carry with me the lessons learned and the hope for a future where I can embrace each day with appreciation. My story is one of struggle and triumph, of finding light in the darkest of times, and of navigating the uncharted waters of life with determination and hope.