When I was 21 I was diagnosed with cancer. It really sucked – and not just because of the whole “life-threatening disease” thing. My prognosis was good, as my doctors had caught it early and the type I had was considered extremely treatable. The worst part about cancer was the wrench it threw in my plans. At the time of my diagnosis, I had just started an amazing internship where I was required to work anywhere between 40 and 60 hours a week. My 22nd birthday was three weeks away. Summer had just started and I’d had big plans to work hard all day and play hard at night. In short, multiple surgeries and months of hospital visits was not what I had in mind. In the end, though, cancer might have been the best thing that ever happened to me. Keep reading »
