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Description
Ever felt as if life is at a standstill? It's as if everyday you're living, you're moving, you're doing things—but at the same time you're not doing anything at all.

I guess we all go through it every once in a while, that brief feeling of emptiness. That burning question—just what am I doing? Why am I doing this? Well, maybe it's just me. Strong people always have their mind set on something but that brings about another question—what is the definition of strong? You're always telling people to be strong, especially sick people and that's honestly what confuses me the most. The only thing I've ever done is –bear- with it because that's all I can do.

Because for the past five years of my life being sick, my life has been a standstill.

Before I was first diagnosed with cancer, it was just word. A disease. To be more specific, you get chemo for it, your hair falls out and as in all tragic stories, you die in the end. That was that.

If you ask me now, I can't really tell you what I did during all those long months I spent at home. There were a few things I started, like writing (though that's gone awfully rusty in the past few months). I recall drawing, a lot. I don't think I've ever drawn that much and I doubt I ever will again, since, well, I don't really know what to do with my life right now. I remember reading tons and tons of Japanese comics to the point that I can't find a decent series to follow anymore.

And then I was back in school. Most kids would rather stay home and play Playstation and honestly? Ask me a six months prior and I'd probably be dying to do that too. But no, I was glad to be in the school. I remember the only thing I was absolutely terrified about going back was the fact that I didn't know my seniors. Like, at all. In fact, I never knew most of them and I sure as hell do not know my juniors. I've never been good at remembering people and I know, sure as hell, that that's going to get me someday. Despite that, life was good. It was moving again.

For a while. Within five months, the pause button was back on. As if those few months had barely been there, I was back in 2007. Once again, days passed in a blur. I remember my mom bringing me to see all kinds of weird people and professors. We were trying juices and oils and so many pills sometimes I felt like just chucking them all out the window and letting the birds eat them (don't worry, no such deed was done). I remember there being days when my mom would just come home and find me lying splayed on the floor staring at the fan turning it's circuits. Thinking back on it, I have no idea how I survived all those long months of nothingness.

When 2009 started, it felt strange because it was as if I didn't even live through 2008. I resumed school around March, just in time for exams. I think. Anyway, I remember being ecstatic because despite being at home, I'd magically maintained above average grades. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't proud of myself. I still had to go home every weekend for chemo and I remember treasuring the few that I could spend in school. In my 3rd year of high school, I was able to attend my first actual Sports Day and a momentous occasion it was because my house won for the 10th year in a row. Thinking about it, 2009 was probably when my life really did start moving again because everything was normal. I couldn't really take part in sports and such because I still had my Hickman line to take care of but life was good.

Would you believe it if I said my favourite time of 2009 was during the PMR examinations? I'm telling you, those two weeks had to hold some of the greatest memories of my life and they were just two weeks long. We had fun. It was the crap incident after that pretty much stained the year but hey, life's got its ups and downs, right?

After school ended, I went for my first ever outing with my boarding school friends. I remember freaking out like hell because, well, I'd never gone out out with my friends before. Sad, right?

At the end of the year, my family and I went to Mecca for umrah in the same group as a junior from school. Oh, we made friends all right. It was… indescribable. The pure holiness of it all is still beyond me. I remember praying like no tomorrow everyday for 8As and I remember waking up one morning with a text from my friend telling me we'd done it. I also remember all the kebabs we ate, those were good.
My hair had started growing back after two years of being bald—that felt good. And funny thing was that it had gone somewhat curly. It was a chemo effect, apparently. It was definitely my favourite hairstyle to date. I was starting to gain confidence in my appearance so when 2010 came along and my Hickman line came off (again), I had a goal: I wanted to wear my first kebaya. Hey, I'm a girl. I'm allowed to be vain, right? So I took the initiative to start jogging and some other random workouts. I ate a lot of fruits too.
Life was good then, really, it was. I was taking part in more stuff at school though I swear to God I will never be good at speaking in public (debate club was absolute fail) and I was going to camps. I even went into a freaking swamp and caught a bucket load of fish. Screw how small they were. It felt like after all that time I had lost, life was moving and I was moving with it.

And that's when the pain started. No, actually, the pain had started a while back. It had just been on an on/off basis. It's ridiculous, now that I think about it, because the pain started with a simple sneeze somewhere around midyear. I thought I'd just strained my back, like we all do sometimes. So I let it be and it didn't bother me. The pain came back with a vengeance one day when I was doing sit-ups so I cut down on those. It was sometime during exam week and I was going to have an MRI at the end of the week anyway so I thought to tell my mom about it then.

The last night of exams, we went up to the roof. Don't ask teenagers why we do these stuff, we just do. I think it's because there were rumours of a meteor shower (which we so did not see).

The next day was Friday the 13th, what are the odds? I have to admit, I had a bad feeling, but I didn't have any bad thoughts in mind.

I couldn't lie down long enough for the MRI scan. My back hurt like hell. I couldn't bend over at all. After that I don't remember. After that I don't want to remember. It was my worst relapse and I will say, everyone had me convinced I was going to die. Even myself.

I went back to school after the weekend to attend 'my last school activity', an international Japanese school thing. I didn't tell any of my friends until the last night because I wanted every last bit of normal I could still afford. That night, we went up to the roof again to count the stars. We never made it past 20. I don't want to recall the farewell after that. Please.

The chemo after that was hell. I really, really felt death calling me in my sleep. I didn't want to do it anymore and my mom let me stop. We decided to go for alternatives and my mom even got this Qi Gong master from US to come all the way here. It was a miracle, but after a few sessions, I was actually walking like normal again. We went for a scan in another hospital and Alhamdulillah, I was completely cured. There wasn't a trace of any of the tumours that had plagued my previous scan.

I can't fathom why though—maybe because she was still afraid? My mom brought me back to our previous hospital and we went for more chemo. And more. To be honest, I don't even know what we were doing anymore. I just did what I always do and bare with it because, well, what else am I supposed to do?
My mother—being my mother—seeing how well I was, decided that I should go back to school for the sake of exams. With less than 12 hours of preparation (sleep hours included), we went to school so I could sit for the International Japanese exam. I found out about yesterday that I scored 97%. Not to toot my own horn, but I feel good. There was another big exam coming up, one all 4th Form SBP students had to sit for. Of course she was going to make me sit for that one and I was fired to go.

Anything. Anything. Anything, if it meant going back to school.

I get the feeling my classmates don't like having me around during exams. Because I sleep in every single accursed paper without fail. I'd say it's the heat, but it definitely feels better when it's raining. It's probably because I sit right in front of the door?

I dropped by again on the last day of school for the sake of picking up small stuff and attending my physics teacher's farewell and it was during those few hours when I noticed just how sweet the grass smelled.

I'm not here to give you a medical report, so I'll spare you all the boring stuff but basically—Doc wanted me to do a bone marrow transplant. I'd never thought… Well, I honestly don't know. The doctor was hoping that maybe with this it would finally, really end. I wanted it to end. My school life is ending and I wanted this to end before that.

What were the odds that my lone 'pure' sibling was a perfect match? I got admitted for my hopefully final chemo on December 16th. After the transplant, I would wake up to vomit to the point of vomiting blood. I've had to wear diapers because of diarrhea. My mouth was full of sores and fungus and constantly oozing blood. I couldn't eat anything for more than 20 days. At some point, I lost my orientation and I lost my eyesight. I think at some point, I lost my mind. They had to admit me to the ICU, where I spent nine days. I suffered insomnia for almost 72 hours. I can't even tell you how crappy it felt in there. I will never take the toilet for granted again.

I think what really drives me crazy about this whole thing was that the doctor told us bone marrow engraftment should've taken four days. Mine started on day 21. That's a lot of days, doc. I've puffed up like anything because of the steroids and my eyes are bleeding. What worries me the most right now is that without warning, I'd have these sorts of panic attacks where I'm just overwhelmed by the need to get out and I just start crying. It's scary.

I've been trying to do things like study or draw but neither have been working out at all. I just can't seem to do them. I don't know how to explain it, really. It's a feeling where I don't want to do something but that I want to have to do something. It's crazy, but that's how it is.

I guess the good thing I can look forward to is that if my platelets don't go below 20 within the next five days I can finally go home.

And then I'll be able to go to school and focus on being a student again. You have no idea how comforting that is. After all these years, the gaps when I've been unwell have been just that—gaps. I'm turning 17 this year and I feel as if I'm still 15. But maybe after this is over, I'll recover. Emotionally, I mean.
Maybe after all these years, my life will no longer be a standstill.

Description
Ever felt as if life is at a standstill? It's as if everyday you're living, you're moving, you're doing things—but at the same time you're not doing anything at all.

I guess we all go through it every once in a while, that brief feeling of emptiness. That burning question—just what am I doing? Why am I doing this? Well, maybe it's just me. Strong people always have their mind set on something but that brings about another question—what is the definition of strong? You're always telling people to be strong, especially sick people and that's honestly what confuses me the most. The only thing I've ever done is –bear- with it because that's all I can do.

Because for the past five years of my life being sick, my life has been a standstill.

Before I was first diagnosed with cancer, it was just word. A disease. To be more specific, you get chemo for it, your hair falls out and as in all tragic stories, you die in the end. That was that.

If you ask me now, I can't really tell you what I did during all those long months I spent at home. There were a few things I started, like writing (though that's gone awfully rusty in the past few months). I recall drawing, a lot. I don't think I've ever drawn that much and I doubt I ever will again, since, well, I don't really know what to do with my life right now. I remember reading tons and tons of Japanese comics to the point that I can't find a decent series to follow anymore.

And then I was back in school. Most kids would rather stay home and play Playstation and honestly? Ask me a six months prior and I'd probably be dying to do that too. But no, I was glad to be in the school. I remember the only thing I was absolutely terrified about going back was the fact that I didn't know my seniors. Like, at all. In fact, I never knew most of them and I sure as hell do not know my juniors. I've never been good at remembering people and I know, sure as hell, that that's going to get me someday. Despite that, life was good. It was moving again.

For a while. Within five months, the pause button was back on. As if those few months had barely been there, I was back in 2007. Once again, days passed in a blur. I remember my mom bringing me to see all kinds of weird people and professors. We were trying juices and oils and so many pills sometimes I felt like just chucking them all out the window and letting the birds eat them (don't worry, no such deed was done). I remember there being days when my mom would just come home and find me lying splayed on the floor staring at the fan turning it's circuits. Thinking back on it, I have no idea how I survived all those long months of nothingness.

When 2009 started, it felt strange because it was as if I didn't even live through 2008. I resumed school around March, just in time for exams. I think. Anyway, I remember being ecstatic because despite being at home, I'd magically maintained above average grades. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't proud of myself. I still had to go home every weekend for chemo and I remember treasuring the few that I could spend in school. In my 3rd year of high school, I was able to attend my first actual Sports Day and a momentous occasion it was because my house won for the 10th year in a row. Thinking about it, 2009 was probably when my life really did start moving again because everything was normal. I couldn't really take part in sports and such because I still had my Hickman line to take care of but life was good.

Would you believe it if I said my favourite time of 2009 was during the PMR examinations? I'm telling you, those two weeks had to hold some of the greatest memories of my life and they were just two weeks long. We had fun. It was the crap incident after that pretty much stained the year but hey, life's got its ups and downs, right?

After school ended, I went for my first ever outing with my boarding school friends. I remember freaking out like hell because, well, I'd never gone out out with my friends before. Sad, right?

At the end of the year, my family and I went to Mecca for umrah in the same group as a junior from school. Oh, we made friends all right. It was… indescribable. The pure holiness of it all is still beyond me. I remember praying like no tomorrow everyday for 8As and I remember waking up one morning with a text from my friend telling me we'd done it. I also remember all the kebabs we ate, those were good.
My hair had started growing back after two years of being bald—that felt good. And funny thing was that it had gone somewhat curly. It was a chemo effect, apparently. It was definitely my favourite hairstyle to date. I was starting to gain confidence in my appearance so when 2010 came along and my Hickman line came off (again), I had a goal: I wanted to wear my first kebaya. Hey, I'm a girl. I'm allowed to be vain, right? So I took the initiative to start jogging and some other random workouts. I ate a lot of fruits too.
Life was good then, really, it was. I was taking part in more stuff at school though I swear to God I will never be good at speaking in public (debate club was absolute fail) and I was going to camps. I even went into a freaking swamp and caught a bucket load of fish. Screw how small they were. It felt like after all that time I had lost, life was moving and I was moving with it.

And that's when the pain started. No, actually, the pain had started a while back. It had just been on an on/off basis. It's ridiculous, now that I think about it, because the pain started with a simple sneeze somewhere around midyear. I thought I'd just strained my back, like we all do sometimes. So I let it be and it didn't bother me. The pain came back with a vengeance one day when I was doing sit-ups so I cut down on those. It was sometime during exam week and I was going to have an MRI at the end of the week anyway so I thought to tell my mom about it then.

The last night of exams, we went up to the roof. Don't ask teenagers why we do these stuff, we just do. I think it's because there were rumours of a meteor shower (which we so did not see).

The next day was Friday the 13th, what are the odds? I have to admit, I had a bad feeling, but I didn't have any bad thoughts in mind.

I couldn't lie down long enough for the MRI scan. My back hurt like hell. I couldn't bend over at all. After that I don't remember. After that I don't want to remember. It was my worst relapse and I will say, everyone had me convinced I was going to die. Even myself.

I went back to school after the weekend to attend 'my last school activity', an international Japanese school thing. I didn't tell any of my friends until the last night because I wanted every last bit of normal I could still afford. That night, we went up to the roof again to count the stars. We never made it past 20. I don't want to recall the farewell after that. Please.

The chemo after that was hell. I really, really felt death calling me in my sleep. I didn't want to do it anymore and my mom let me stop. We decided to go for alternatives and my mom even got this Qi Gong master from US to come all the way here. It was a miracle, but after a few sessions, I was actually walking like normal again. We went for a scan in another hospital and Alhamdulillah, I was completely cured. There wasn't a trace of any of the tumours that had plagued my previous scan.

I can't fathom why though—maybe because she was still afraid? My mom brought me back to our previous hospital and we went for more chemo. And more. To be honest, I don't even know what we were doing anymore. I just did what I always do and bare with it because, well, what else am I supposed to do?
My mother—being my mother—seeing how well I was, decided that I should go back to school for the sake of exams. With less than 12 hours of preparation (sleep hours included), we went to school so I could sit for the International Japanese exam. I found out about yesterday that I scored 97%. Not to toot my own horn, but I feel good. There was another big exam coming up, one all 4th Form SBP students had to sit for. Of course she was going to make me sit for that one and I was fired to go.

Anything. Anything. Anything, if it meant going back to school.

I get the feeling my classmates don't like having me around during exams. Because I sleep in every single accursed paper without fail. I'd say it's the heat, but it definitely feels better when it's raining. It's probably because I sit right in front of the door?

I dropped by again on the last day of school for the sake of picking up small stuff and attending my physics teacher's farewell and it was during those few hours when I noticed just how sweet the grass smelled.

I'm not here to give you a medical report, so I'll spare you all the boring stuff but basically—Doc wanted me to do a bone marrow transplant. I'd never thought… Well, I honestly don't know. The doctor was hoping that maybe with this it would finally, really end. I wanted it to end. My school life is ending and I wanted this to end before that.

What were the odds that my lone 'pure' sibling was a perfect match? I got admitted for my hopefully final chemo on December 16th. After the transplant, I would wake up to vomit to the point of vomiting blood. I've had to wear diapers because of diarrhea. My mouth was full of sores and fungus and constantly oozing blood. I couldn't eat anything for more than 20 days. At some point, I lost my orientation and I lost my eyesight. I think at some point, I lost my mind. They had to admit me to the ICU, where I spent nine days. I suffered insomnia for almost 72 hours. I can't even tell you how crappy it felt in there. I will never take the toilet for granted again.

I think what really drives me crazy about this whole thing was that the doctor told us bone marrow engraftment should've taken four days. Mine started on day 21. That's a lot of days, doc. I've puffed up like anything because of the steroids and my eyes are bleeding. What worries me the most right now is that without warning, I'd have these sorts of panic attacks where I'm just overwhelmed by the need to get out and I just start crying. It's scary.

I've been trying to do things like study or draw but neither have been working out at all. I just can't seem to do them. I don't know how to explain it, really. It's a feeling where I don't want to do something but that I want to have to do something. It's crazy, but that's how it is.

I guess the good thing I can look forward to is that if my platelets don't go below 20 within the next five days I can finally go home.

And then I'll be able to go to school and focus on being a student again. You have no idea how comforting that is. After all these years, the gaps when I've been unwell have been just that—gaps. I'm turning 17 this year and I feel as if I'm still 15. But maybe after this is over, I'll recover. Emotionally, I mean.
Maybe after all these years, my life will no longer be a standstill.