5. Long. Years. And I'm STILL Here.

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On this day 5 years ago, my doctors told me these words... 

"Nikhil. The good news is, you're 17 and you have leukaemia. But the bad news is, you're 17 and you have leukeamia."

And they've changed my life. 

They've transformed me from a boy, fresh out of highschool, who wanted to help people, but mainly just wanted to play basketball all day, to a man who focuses on the opportunities rather than the prices paid, one who needs to put his all into that desire to help others...

But also one who often can't. 

It's been long. I've had 2 bone marrow transplants, with 8 rounds of some of the hardest chemo you can get, plus over 20 "maintainence" chemos (in truth, the fatigue they bring sometimes feels worse than those hard ones). I've relapsed, been to ICU at least twice (probably a few more times that I can't remember), lost a rib to a different cancer altogether, an eye to I still don't know what (the other eye's missed being blinded twice now since...), and lost my mind for 2 weeks to a reaction that almost reduced my chances at relapse to 0... The side effects from that last one alone, the drugs I'm still on and the constant threat of those seizures returning, still bear heavy on my mind... not to mention the major side effect of this all - the Graft Versus Host Disease that turns me into a child, cursing, screaming, pleading for the pain to stop, most nights due to the cramps.  
I've had over 300 bags of blood products infused into me, one that nearly took my life, 2 that have saved it (the bone marrow transplants). I don't even know how many appointments I've had. I STILL have monthly infusions, still go to monthly checkups with 3 monthly, 6 monthly and yearly ones thrown inbetween, and currently have 8 specialists looking after me.  
It's changed me from this; 

to this... 

The isolation after being so self-conscious due to cancers' changes, made life dreary, and lasted months before I developed the mentality that got me through it...

The torture of losing friends, over and over, made me question why I even bothered... living.

The pain I still endure every day sometimes that makes me feel the same sometimes...

And it just keeps going on... 

There's so many different ways of looking at all that...

And I bet immediately, you went to the bad...

Being told you have a 10, maybe 20% chance of surviving at 17? A relapse? ANOTHER cancer? Your disabilities? Dude... that's horrible... 

But there's also some good in there. There always is, if you take a step back and appreciate what's gong on in life... 

I mean you could also think, "Wow.. you had 5 marrow matches? Many don't even get one (that's something YOU can change - click here to find out how) You've had, and met some amazing doctors and people in your life... you've learned so much from this... you've grown from it all. You're so blessed!"

If you asked me if I feel blessed or lucky, or if I'd do it all over again, my answer... 
would change. 

Depending on the day. On how I felt. On how much pain I was in... Or how much my depression prone mind was affecting me...

But overall, I am a happy guy. The way I dealt with it, by taking a step back, looking at where I was and then realising, when I didn't have emotions stopping me from doing so, that it only made sense to take the path that led me to success... To view the world in the good light, which is always there, and bend my attitude to focus on that so I'd have the best chance of being happy.

It's made me a man who sees opportunity, everywhere, even where most people see dead ends. 
It's made me able to laugh at the traumatic stuff I've been through, able to learn from it, and try to help others do the same, rather than being scarred. 
It's made me thrive, made my desire to help others a need rather than me curling up in a ball of my own misery...

At least, it's made me that... most of the time... 

The times I'm not can be horrible, with spells of utter depression that have lasted months...

leaving me numb, self-doubting, sometimes, suicidal,..

The grief I talked about here is just part of that.
When I'm cramping, and have been for hours, and I feel like I can't do anything, that this body I've been given isn't mine, and isn't worth it... you can understand how I don't really see much point to this all. 

But if you asked me how I felt today... 

I'd say Thankful. 

Not so much triumphant, ecstatic or gleeful... Though of course, there are hints of that.

Thankful. 

I have suffered, and in the days up to writing this post, I wondered if that's what I'd be focusing on as I wrote this. But no... It's not. 

I'm thankful for this opportunity. This second, and third shot at life I've been given by my donors. 

I'm thankful for the doctors I had who not only gave me premium care, not only went above and beyond the call of duty to keep me safe, not only listened to me, getting me the medicine that's probably kept me alive, but also gave me the words that made me realise I had a CHOICE in how I viewed life. 

"the good news is, you're 17 and you have leukaemia..." 

I'm thankful for the nurses I had, who not only were the doctors, the real healers who'd look after me, administering the poisons that brought me misery and bringing me the meds that relieved that, but also be my confidants, carers and friends in all this. My angels. Who I couldn't visit today (I've got an infection I don't wanna spread to other critical patients) but would, if I could, give them the world for the comfort and happiness they brought me in the hardest times of my life... something they do for every single person they care for.  

Me at my 18th birthday, when I was feeling so down and out about being THERE of all places, and at my 22nd, when I was told I had a THIRD cancer and needed surgery.
Both times, these amazing angels picked up on it. Both times, they threw me a party. Both times, they showed how much they cared. 

But what I'm thankful for most, is my family. An eccentric, funny, spontaneous father who'd always be able to make me laugh; something you need in tough times...

A brother, who's given up so much for me, and continues to do so Every. Single. Day of this young life, despite my being the biggest, baddest, most dickish troll ever... 

And a mother, who's done, and would do anything and everything for me. Who's slept in a fold out, often basic chair for months of her life so I didn't have to move that metre and a half to my phone. Who's had to watch me go through hell, ICU, and so much trauma, helpless, unable to make a difference as I did. Who's always there for me, who takes so much of my crap and somehow still somehow not only loves me, but laughs about it, and inspires me... sometimes even as I'm berating her...

just one example of how my mother, hell, any mother, will be the most selfless, loving beings you'll ever encounter.
just wow...

And I'm thankful for you. You guys who've read this, spread it, the friends who've kept me happy, those who've allowed me the privilege of coming into your lives to help, and just be there. 

And I will do anything and everything to try an make the most of everything I've been given... Starting with this;

My idea, trying to hack into the billions of hours we spend online and make good come from it.

to try and help those we love to watch keep doing what they do, for a living

to try and make it so easy to help people, by just opening an app, or loading up a site, you can change the world.
Tell anyone you know who entertains to join at www.playwel.org ! They won't regret it. For sure

My only wish, is that everyone be as strong as they possibly can. That they learn from me and my experiences and not wait for tragedy to strike, or circumstances be changed to become the best possible version of themselves. That they be able, and willing to help those who are struggling... That's what my new charity, an app/site - PlayWell, is all about. 

And look... if you can do that... then you've made this guy on this day, happy. 

Thank you. 

How it Feels to Have a Chronic Illness. And How to Explain it to Normal People.

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 "How are you going these days Nikhil?" 

It'd been literally half a year since I'd seen this group of friends - my med student buddies - and I had to do the rounds. This question came up a lot. And almost always, it was about my health. 

"So yeah I'm actually good!" I'd always start, smiling and gesturing wildly so as not to worry anyone. "In fact, my cancer's at a point now where it can't come back!" And to this, I'd get an emphatic 'Congratulations!', a shout of yipee and a toast and the occasional pat on the back (*wince* - I have some healing wounds there that aren't getting better fast...). 

"But yeah otherwise, treatment for the graft versus host disease continues. And I mean though the skin is slowly getting better, the major thing left is the cramping, which can suck." The faces become more sallow as I say this. "But hey, they're getting better too!" I lied, and again they'd celebrate, albeit slightly less enthusiastically. 

Hey! What could I tell them? How could I explain to them the truth of how it affects every single aspect of my life. Even in this crowd of young, caring people, there was no easy way of really telling them what it really meant...

 

I don't think people really know how much this can affect me...
Me getting up for the 10th time or something some night. Mum filmed it 'cause they kept me from sleeping for so long, we thought we may have to show it to the doctors ASAP.

And after a while... explaining it over and over again takes too much effort. Hence this post.

I guess you could argue that it's hard to really talk about anything over the insane amounts of decibels that blast through a nightclub's speaker. I guess you could say that lambasting about the constant frustration and the looming anxiety of something you can't control for half an hour would break the social convention of small talk. But in truth, now that I think about, there really isn't an easy way to explain how it really impacts your mindset, a chronic condition. 

Because unlike what most think, that frustration, that anxiety, the physical effects of a chronic illness - that's only half the impact. Chronic diseases, mental illnesses, even things like stress affect our very mindset, they play a factor in every tiny decision we make and it was only after reading this amazing article/blog post that I feel I'm properly able to explain that now. 

It's only half the pain... but that pain can be significant.

It's called the spoon theory, and the concept is brilliant and encapsulates everything there is about having such an illness. 

Picture yourself having to walk around all day with 12, and only 12, spoons. Each little action you take - you get one confiscated. I know it's in-feasible to have someone follow you around all day, and I know that handing one in may be conceived to be another action that requires another spoon that ends up in an infinite loop leaving you with no spoons, and that there may be all kinds of other particulars that may make this nonfunctional... Hey, I said it was a great analogy. Not a perfect one. 

I digress. Now... where were we? 

Every single action.

Waking up and hopping out of bed? That'll be one spoon.

Finding the will to get up and brush your teeth. One more. 

Doing other... business... in the bathroom and then showering. Another one.

Putting on your clothes, eating breakfast and going out for the day's business. 2 more please. 

We've only just left the house, and we're down 5 or 6 spoons! 

You may think I'm exaggerating, but that's life for so many people. People with cystic fibrosis, people with heart failure or latent blood cancers, people with horrible cramps like me will find some, most, even all of those tasks tiring. Right now, I'm scared of even getting up from a seated/lying position after 5pm, in fear of my whole body having EVERY SINGLE muscle contract at once (from my legs to my abs, to even my neck), leaving me dazed and staggering, doubly terrifying if I'm trying to get up steps (I've fallen twice already, which may have caused soft tissue damage in my knee) - even gasping wildly for breath (getting up and staggering to the car was what took me in to hospital the night before I found out I had another tumour growing on my rib). 

 

Me a few weeks ago. Facebook usually isn't somewhere you post your down moments. The image of themselves as successful, happy people that people like to portray, combined with life highlights usually drowns out moments or cries out to nobody like these. I guess I'm lucky to have some friends who saw and cared to ask.

People going through severe depression find getting out of bed to be impossible. It's too painstakingly hard to face the day or the world for some, too lonely for others - it's unsurprising that it makes no sense to many - and leaving that first confine costs them significantly more than 1 spoon. 

Now imagine the feeling of having to give that spoon up. Each. And. Every. Task. You. Do. And imagine having to account for and plan out everything around not only your medications and appointments over the days/weeks/months to come, but also for how many "spoons" you have left. Yes... sometimes you can have a "feel" for things and plan accordingly... But remember, often your condition can be unpredictable... leaving you caught with even less. 

And imagine having to pass up on doing things that are good for your career, good for you, or the things you love because you simply don't have, or can't afford the energy to do so.

So, where were we? Ahh that's right... The rest of the day. 

So when you get through the day's work or study, with travel, dealing with setbacks, explaining things like this to people and - could you imagine - kids... you're left staggering around with 1 spoon.  If you're lucky. 

And if you're lucky enough to have the will, or else prop yourself up by speaking motivational nothings to yourself (or by taking heavy amounts of Beroccas or even stronger stuff) and manage to head out the door to "enjoy" yourself as I did that night, you'll pay for it by having a semi (if that) rewarding night and by being forced to watch on jealously as "normal" people enjoy things like dancing, drinking and eating (don't forget, the physical restrictions ALWAYS stay with us) and even walking without a worry. And if you wear yourself out too much - you'll pay by having a few less spoons to use the next day. That's if you haven't worn yourself out already before you've even had the choice to go and have fun.

Because yes - you DO pay if you go over the limit. Harshly.

And no... you don't get a break from it.

Ever.

For some... especially those who are poor (it's hard to get extra qualifications or backing for your business, or even a job in the first place with this on your record) this can become a cycle that just continues on and on.

This thing looms over you, and drains you, in all ways, forever. And I may complain about it - I, hell, anyone with any such draining condition (no matter how "petty" or "whiny" it may seem) have the right to do so no matter what - but there are so many people who have it worse. 

I have the benefit of having a year off from studies, so I can, when I'm well enough, accomplish other things despite this. I also have a family, all amazing people, who care for me and do everything - from fixing me meals and taking me to appointments, to dragging me to my bed (which actually happened after that party 2 nights ago as my muscles were drained from enjoying myself and dancing for a few minutes) when I need them to. I'm still young and can look forward to a potential future without this. So many people DON'T have that luxury. 

Imagine being blind and having to rely on that carer, or services that may, or may not exist, all the time. Imagine having inflammatory bowel disease or some form of incontinence that means you have to rush to the bathroom (which you always have to be aware of, not just because of the embarrassment this could cause, but actually be aware of if they're close) at any second of the day. Imagine being a carer for someone with that illness and having to not only watch on helplessly as your loved ones struggle to juggle their spoons, but have to take on their spoons yourself - as you work 2 or 3 jobs to cover the bills, or give up YOUR happiness to do so... as my brother often has to. 

Imagine having had this your whole life, and knowing that this may well take your life, as people with cystic fibrosis and other chronic, right-now-deemed-terminal illnesses do.

It's scary. I know. 

But as the lady who invented this spoon theory said in her original post... this can also be seen as "a blessing. I have been forced to think about everything I do. Do you know how many spoons people waste everyday? I don’t have room for wasted time, or wasted “spoons”. And if you're lucky enough to have a friend or family member or patient who does have such an illness... if they're with you... remember that they "chose to spend this time with YOU." 

I hope this gives you a glimpse of life as a chronic patient. 

I hope this allows you to forgive "misgrievances" anyone with an illness may have committed - whether it be them having to bail at the last moment on a meeting, skipping or else refusing to take medications because they honestly forgot or are sick of taking them, or them just simply pouring their heart out and letting people know what it feels... I've seen so many people cry things like "Bullshit!" and "Pussy!" when people "whine" about things like this.

Remember - these things take a huge emotional toll too (my experiences with it. And how I deal with that).  It's not easy hearing "you look good", or "you look better" when you feel like the complete opposite. It's not easy having to explain everything, often lying about your health just to make others happy too. The frustration of this thing never leaves you too...

And finally, I hope this let's you understand those people in your lives who do have extra issues always looming over them. And I hope this urges you to go and ask them if they're OK, and equips you to maybe help them. 

Because who knows. Someone you love, or someone you care or are caring for may need your help.

A Great Surprise from Great Friends! Things like that are what you need sometimes...

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So I was at home, very tired, as I went on a fishing trip yesterday on the boat (it was great, even though I ended up cramping for the rest of the day =P I'm not at my best and it was a 6am start!), but I had to go somewhere - hospital, not as a patient, but to meet  a friend actually.

And god... I couldn't be stuffed... And it probably wasn't healthy. But I'd made a promise. And I knew I'd actually have a good time. So I was texting a friend, ready to go, when Mum came in. She'd had a day off, and was eating food when she saw me getting up.

"No Nikhil, take it easy today." she said through a mouthful, rushing to sit in the chair beside my bed. "It's my day off today, stay home with me. C'mon, Nirav's making lamb curry too! Oh, and you had a big day yesterday, you need to rest."

"Jeez mum, I gotta go!" I said, dragging myself up, shoulders slumped. I wasn't feeling my best but I had made a promise. 

After a bit more insisting though, she lured me into conversation, urging me to stay, annoyingly, inbetween topics, and eventually, I gave up and texted the friend saying "I'll catch you next week!" before slumping back into bed, muttering under my breath about how annoying it was to have such a clingy mum...

Then I heard the door open. And a few voices. 
Odd... Dad had just left for Melbourne for a family function. Nirav, my bro, he wouldn't have gone out... he was midway through cooking...

Then Nirav himself popped into the room, too soon after the groan of the front door (he couldn't have gotten up that quick surely), absently checking in, a slight smile on his face for some reason.... 
It was clear, at least, that someone was home...

And then these guys popped in, handing me this mysterious bag - a gift - and I couldn't stop smiling!

It was my basketball buddies! Since high school (I got sick in the last year of it), it was hard to catch up with anyone - we were so far away, broken up and separated, in the new friend groups we'd developed at Uni and Work. 

But a tradition had begun, and I'd joined in on it, of always catching up and playing basketball for HOURS on end in our mid-semester breaks. And it was glorious! The best times of high school came back in those few hours, where our less fit versions of our young selves tried to resurrect our mostly lost talent.

The last few ones though I'd missed. You know... things like a third cancer popping up outta nowhere and nearly going blind tend to impede my perfect jump shot and awe-inspiring dunks... 

I REALLY wanted to go! But I knew I couldn't, so I'd always post "Sooon!" or "Devos!" when that notification came up on Facebook...

But hey! They'd brought it to me this time! And they'd also gotten me the perfect gift!

A PERSONALLY SIGNED Steph Curry (the MVP of the NBA this year, possible/probable contender for the greatest shooter EVER) Jersey!! 

Not by Steph Curry... by my basketball buddies. but hey, I'll take what I can get =P 

The gift was perfect not only because my raw shooting talent and touch at the 3 point line has been compared with some of the greats, but because Nirav was making them, lamb curry (watching Jerry - the strapping lad on the right - barely gulp it down, even with 10 spoons of yoghurt after that, and sweat from the heat was classic!), because I loved the way the team played and most importantly - because the Number - 30 - represented something amazing!

It took my a while to guess why. They kept urging me to anyway... 

"Is that Shaquille O'Neal's number?" When I was in year 7, I'd had my growth spurt before the other kids, and was, let's say, "well rounded", so I had the nickname Shaq on the court. Maybe that was it.  

"My scoring average?"

"How many girls I'd been with?" (to which I had multiple scoffs, and cries of "Bullshit!") 

The actual answer took me a while. But with a few hints, I'd got it. 

It was 3 - 0. My Record against Cancer. 

Bloody awesome! A LOT more symbolic than this other gift I'd gotten from mates during chemo... And sooooo cool of them! I'm still smiling as I write this.

I'll keep it forever, that's for sure - never to be washed again, to keep their signatures on. I know they're shaking their heads as they read this (I used to always be known as the guy who sweated so much he could slip between players, so an unwashed shirt would be POISONOUS almost I'd say)... it's just how I roll Haha!

There's another awesome aspect to this gift though.... They'd been planning this for the last few months. Some of you who follow my Facebook page may know that I was in hospital during my birthday... again (I've also spent my 18th in hospital, alone almost) and that despite the suckiness, a few acts of kindness made it an amazing day... Especially ones like this.

 (do click and read it - the full post is here. My nurses gift to me as soon as it hit 12, straight after I'd mused about how sucky it was to be stuck there on the day. This, and a shot of morphine for post surgery pain. What more could you want?)

These boys had actually planned this surprise for me then! But circumstances had stopped either me from being there, or them being available. 

And today was the perfect day. Not only because I was missing out on some of the best fun that was our quarterly basketball meet-up - but because there's been tension going on at home for a bit too... 

It's hard being a chronic patient... I've talked about that a lot. But it's just as hard - if not harder - being the carer of one. "They're the ones that have to be stronger than the patient, to hold them." as my mum said, perfectly. Which is hard to do when you're feeling helpless as your loved ones go through pain...

And the last few weeks especially have been especially painful. The cramps that have plagued me for the last year and a half have come back with a vengeance after one of my treatments (Ironically, that treatment is supposed to take away the cramps... Hopefully in the long term...) started. I had 2 doses before the surgery in August, and 2 doses afterwards. And each time... the cramps had gotten ten times worse after them! The next few days after a dose, I'd LITERALLY cramped 24/7... I didn't get any sleep then. Even now, every time I get up, I cramp, and new areas are involved, like my neck, and possibly even my esophagus, close to my windpipe. So I'm not only cramping, I feel like I'm choking too... 

In this time, I've often reverted back to the level of a baby again. I'd scream out "WATER!" and someone would have to get it (I couldn't get out of bed - hell - I couldn't even roll over and sip it half the time. I have a pack of straws handy by my bed), "MEDS!" and they'd sort through the pile of them on my desk and give them to me, "FOOD!" as I found myself hungry, at the oddest hours, and unable to get it...

And they'd be there. Everytime. Sometimes after a bit because they were busy (or in the case of my brother, playing games, which I'd scream at him for afterwards, as it'd often leave me no option but to hobble over, crouched in pain, to get what I needed)... but they'd not JUST be there, they'd do awesome stuff like this today to keep me HAPPY too!

It's the other stuff though... the driving me to poker (the one and only thing that gets those annoying cramps off my mind), to dropping me to occasional adventures with friends, the annoying "Get the remote!", "Find my phone!" and, the too-usual "Can you find my <insert item here>", NOW please!" - that they were understandably frustrated about. 

But they didn't get that I was frustrated too. That these things - I needed them to not just feel normal, but BE SANE. That I WAS giving up things - I could've gone to hundreds more parties, events, games in that time frame but I didn't to keep them happy, or because I was afraid of their annoyed reaction. And they don't realise how crappy it feels to see that begrudged, annoyed face when you're in pain, thrashing around in bed; when you NEED someone to help... and they hate always being the one to do it.  

They've said some horrible stuff to me. And I've said horrible stuff back. I've screamed at them... too many times.. and it happens over and over again, as the annoying disease (graft versus host disease) beneath all this threaten to bubble up and burst in our faces week on week, month on month, year on year... 

But it was THEM - as well as my friends - who made this happen. They kept it secret for a good 2 months, planned for it to happen on multiple days, only to have it knocked back because something came up, and made it happen today... after we had a HUGE fight last night. 

Many people... possibly even me, would stay angry, cut the cord on something awesome like this, even HATE someone after that exchange. But not this awesome breed of people... not my awesome carers. 

I take them for granted, and keep being horrible WAY too much. But I'm changing... slowly but surely, things I outlined here... and I'm also resolving to keep doing that - and take the next step. Not lean on them for those extra things like poker nights and parties. Maybe I'd miss out on some, and be trapped at home... but hey! In the end I, my thoughts, my mind, determine whether I'm happy or not. And, as I always say - there's always 2 ways of looking at things. 

Missing those things will give me time to work on better stuff! Like this. 

But all in all... I'd like to say thanks. Not just to Jerry, Eric, Adrien (the boys in the photo), Lucas, Harry, Tony, Nick and Michael (the ones who signed and chipped in for the jersey itself!) - but also Mum, Dad and the Bro for doing this to make me happy. Even though sometimes, I don't deserve it.

Pain and Suicide.

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 Anyone who's ever had a cramp knows that whenever you have one, you think of nothing else but "When will this end??"
Well, I've been getting them for the last 8months now. They've been happening every day, everywhere and they happen for no reason we can find out whatsoever. 

Sometimes they go on for hours. Usually, I can't even stretch or walk them out; they happen in my abs, which I just have to bear as there's no way I could stretch them, or on opposing muscles simultaneously... Stretching one side's cramps out makes the other side's worse. Often, they happen while I'm sleeping... Every second night, I wake up, screaming, writhing in pain until I can untangle myself from my blanket and bear it out. 

Sometimes I wake up my family with those screams.

Nothing has helped. My doctors don't have a clue. I've tried literally everything. Electrolytes - I drink them every day, every night. Regular stretching, cutting out certain spices/vitamins, every medication; alternative and proven, exercise (I was going through them while I trained up for and did my 200km bikeride too - the feeling of having a calf muscle cramp-up while you're riding down a hill at over 70km/h is terrifying beyond anything you can ever experience).... but NOTHING WORKS!

I can't even begin to express how bad these last few months in particular have been!

Every minute of every day I know they're coming... Every time I even move my foot in bed, or reach for the remote, or get up from a chair, I dread the writhing hot, burning pain that is bound to ignite.





But the last 3 or 4 days... it's gotten even worse. 

I'm writing this now at 5a.m. I tried going to bed at 11:30 last night, before the cramping started. I've managed to get into 1 cycle of deep sleep, but woke up from that mid-way.

I was barely able to open my eyes as I stumbled around the house, slamming the walls with my hands, trying to stretch out my burning fingers that are curling up like a dying spider against my will.

That was an hour ago and after slumping back wearily into bed after my hands and quads finally stopped spasming, I've woken up again twice, only to have my abs, and then my calves and shoulders start burning up. 

I'm typing this out 1 key at a time, massaging hands that are aching, threatening to start spasming again...

This FUCKING. SUCKS!

EVERYTHING I DO, I DO FEARING WHAT MAY COME...

I may seem like I'm in control and happy all the time. though I don't let it affect my overall outlook and still can, and do, smile, and enjoy everything I can, EVERY. DAY is a struggle. 
There have been a few times, over the last year or two in particular, where I've wondered... "why do I even bother? I mean, it'd be so much easier if I... slipped away..."


When you've been living for as long as I have not being able to remember the last day you weren't in pain, able to count the last good sleeps you've had in the last year on your fingers; wondering, and in awe, at the energy everyone else seems to have, at age 21, you can't help but wonder those things every now and again... 

This is the life of someone with a chronic illness... or someone who lives with chronic fatigue.

But though I've wondered and thought about it; at one point, when I was hallucinating (due to a near-fatal toxicity from a drug), in so much pain and out of control I even screamed at my nurses and my own mother to euthanize me... I've always, during those rough patches, remembered these few things.

First - that pain, which I've been forced to go through so much of over the last few years - it's temporary. 
Though it sucks... it's finite and has an end. What usually hurts us more than any neurological response of the firing of some nocioceptors is the emotional toll that fear of that pain puts on us. In the end... when you take a step back and think about it, how it affects us is something that WE control. So why should I let it hurt me more than it should? (how I do that, and how you can if you feel the same way - I talk about here).

Second - I remember the words of my doctor. When I asked him about what he thought of euthanasia (it wasn't prompted by an ideation of mine, I was just interested on his opinion one consultation), he told me "I've had a few patients who've come in asking if they could end it. But most, in a few weeks, come back shocked that they could even think such a thing."
Pain is horrible. Something that bad, it's only natural that it can affect our judgement. But pain, especially that associated with treatment, or recovery, it does end... and once you're free from it - life becomes a much brighter, nicer place.

But when it's chronic pain, something that seems to, or may well go on forever... when you feel like there's no end to this, that this pain will keep coming back, over and over (as it may well do for my cramps); that can be even more disheartening than even the horrible trauma that chemos, pleural biopsies or the worst pain imaginable may bring on.

But in the end... if you, now, in the future, or anyone you know is going through that... remember this third thing.

That though it does suck while it goes on, and though it may impair, or affect us, there are still so many good things worth living for. And that there are still so many things we can still do, despite it.

This is how I get by, and somehow, often manage to be happy despite all the crap that I have to go through. Unfortunately, I'm not an extraordinary case... many people go through the same, or similar, or worse hurdles... every day of their life.
It helps when you have great friends, a great family, great people to talk to who give you someone to talk to, an understanding nod when you need it, or something to laugh about during those.
Many don't have that. If you're one of them, I'm happy to talk about it (contacts below), if you think a friend or family member, or even stranger is going through that - be there for them or feel free to pass them on to me.



But sometimes... The whole world seems bleak; you struggle to do even the most menial tasks, you've been sad for so long that you forget what it feels like to be happy... and even the things you love fail to bring joy to you anymore.

You don't need to be in physical pain for that to happen. Anything can bring it on; loss, bullying; in fact, for many, nothing does... it's like it's your natural state... and the self-loathing we feel when we think we're worthless because of that... that can push us further into that sad, blue pit.

Depression... that's a whole other pain of its own. It's no coincidence that major depressive disorder is present in at least half of all people who commit suicide. Probably more. I've been through depression myself... and it's not always for the reasons you'd think are "obvious" in my case too... 
I'll be writing a big one on that topic soon... but in the meantime... if you're struggling to cope... if you're struggling to find reason... I want you to watch this.

And read these:

My experience with depression due to loss. How I got through that.

My experience with depression due to self loathing, self-esteem issues and loneliness due to doubting myself. And how I (and how you can) got through them.

Contact me: 
Here on the blog 
Email: nikhilthegrizzlybear@gmail.com
Facebook: www.facebook.com/musingsofamedstudentpatient