Practicing Medicine

It’s my birthday. Another year around the sun, another milestone reached, and yet, this one feels heavier—more profound—than birthdays of the past. I woke up with a mix of gratitude, reflection, and, let’s be honest, a little disappointment. I thought I’d be a few pounds lighter by now, but apparently, my late-night rendezvous with tubs of ice cream had other plans. I like to think that it’s not just calories—it’s all that comfort and joy holding me together. At least that’s what I’m telling myself.

Birthdays usually come with big celebrations, but this year is more subdued. It’s not about the party or the gifts. This journey has shifted my perspective on everything, including the meaning of “celebration.” I started the day quietly, sipping my tea and letting the morning sunlight stream through the window. Most birthdays, I would normally wish for something. But what do you wish for when your life is already consumed with hope and prayers for better health? I took a deep breath and continued to stare into an empty space in my room, trying to not become consumed by my thoughts.

Throughout the day, texts and calls poured in from family and friends. Some knew the weight of this birthday, the milestone it represented in my battle with cancer. Others had no idea, offering lighthearted jokes and well-wishes. I appreciated them all, but the ones that hit hardest were from those who said, “You inspire me.” Honestly, I’m not trying to inspire anyone. I’m just trying to deal with this the best way I know how, which is to see it as a task I need to overcome and mark as “done”.

In the afternoon, I sat down with a small bowl of—you guessed it—ice cream Buttered pecan, my favorite. I allowed myself a moment to indulge, to enjoy something purely for the sake of enjoyment. It’s funny how something so small can feel like an act of rebellion against everything that’s been trying to knock me down.

As the day came to a close, I reflected on where I am at Day 93. Birthdays are a reminder of time, and time feels more precious than ever. I may not have the energy I once did, and I may not be the “lighter, fitter” version of myself I envisioned, but I am still me—strong, determined, and resilient.

So here’s to another year. Here’s to laughter, ice cream, and fighting the good fight. Here’s to learning that it’s okay to celebrate even the smallest victories, because every single one matters.

Happy Birthday to me.