Before you jump to conclusions, I would like to add that I am only talking from personal experience here and in no way do I intend to hurt any sentiments.
I was diagnosed with non-gestational choriocarcinoma (ovarian cancer) at the tender age of eleven (yes, even before I started menstruating). Two major surgeries and five rounds of chemotherapy later, I was declared cancer free and thankfully, I continue to be so. And let me tell you I am NOT proud of it. In fact, there was nothing heroic about me ‘battling’ cancer as people like to call it. I was blessed to have a supportive family who could afford the expensive medication. I was blessed to have a school that allowed me the flexibility of studying from home for the duration of the treatment. I was blessed to have the best doctors at Tata memorial Hospital (Mumbai, India) and yes, I was lucky that it was diagnosed early. To be honest, I behaved like any other school kid – throwing tantrums and refusing medication, if not cursing my parents for feeding me ‘wheat grass’, threptin biscuits and all that crap.
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