First Person is a daily personal piece submitted by readers. Have a story to tell? See our guidelines at tgam.ca/essayguide.
Illustration by Christine Wei
I’ve had many identities in my life – a mother of four children, editor, freelancer writer, volunteer, flower vendor, bookseller, babysitter, substitute teacher, Mandarin teacher and library worker. And now in my 60s, I have a new identity to add to that list – a cancer patient.
One week after I completed the Sporting Life 10K running and walking event with my sons and daughter on Mother’s Day, doctors at Toronto General Hospital discovered a tumour in my stomach.
Since then, I have been experiencing constant fear and anxiety. Waiting for a doctor’s diagnosis is like waiting for an axe to fall over my head.
Is it cancer? If it is, what stage am I in? Has it spread to other parts of my body? Am I marching to my own death? Are my days numbered? How much time do I have left? A few months or a few years? Whenever I think about saying final goodbyes to my most cherished loved ones, my tears begin to fall.
When my son had cancer I had to learn that I could walk by his side but not in his shoes
Right after my endoscopy, I couldn’t talk because I still had a bite block in my mouth. I wrote “cancer” in my hand with my finger. The nurse replied, “We don’t know.” Then she gently patted my arm and said, “You are strong.” Right there and then, I saw the kindest eyes I had ever seen.
My hospital stay was stressful. The night before my endoscopy was brutal. I had to finish four litres of Peglyte. The medication hurt my stomach so much that it felt like I was in labour again at the age of 64!
I had to rush to the washroom countless times because of diarrhea. Fortunately, nobody competed with me for the washroom that night. The only other patient in my hospital room used diapers instead.
I felt like a wounded soldier. Throughout my hospital stay, a nurse came into my room for my blood work every day. She poked at least one tiny hole in my narrow veins. I thought to myself, my arms would be ridden with holes by the end of my hospitalization.
Luckily, I am the type of person who always sees the glass as half full. When I had my CT scan, I was put into this big donut-shaped machine. When it roared to life, I closed my eyes and imagined that I was floating in space.
A kind-hearted nurse gave me a pair of hospital slippers to replace my Hoka boots, the same boots I wore to climb Mount Fuji just last August. I wandered along the hospital corridor wearing the sky blue slippers. They were like dancing shoes, light and comfortable. Whenever I walked in them, I felt like I was transformed into a young and elegant dancer. I wanted to dance on the hospital floor!
This extraordinary gift from a living organ donor has changed my life
I tried to capture beauty even in such a bleak setting. I took pictures of beautiful paintings and pretty thank-you cards on the walls and shared them with my family. I wanted to let them know that I still looked at the bright side, in spite of the difficult situation.
There was a silver lining during my time in hospital. I had been busy all my life. Finally, I could rest for a while. I didn’t need to prepare a meal. Breakfast, lunch and dinner were delivered to my bed. I had room service! I looked forward to each meal time just as I did on an airplane while I travelled the world.
A family visit was always a highlight during my hospital stay. My daughter, a budding artist, drew two gorgeous flowers for me on the way to the hospital in her Uber! Together my son, an aspiring composer, and I listened to his new composition. I listened to his soothing music again while I received IV treatment.
Of course, my husband of 37 years visited me too. We had a long chat. During the COVID-19 pandemic, it was the other way around. Back then, he had a mini stroke. I visited him at Toronto Western Hospital.
I eventually learned that I have stage four stomach cancer. It is not curable. I am going to fight an uphill battle to survive, with my family by my side at the most challenging time of my life.
“We will be with you throughout this journey. You will never be alone. Remember to always be strong! Strength is key to winning the battle,” my loving son said to me.
Gu Zhenzhen lives in Toronto.
