I never thought I'll ever write about cancer. My earliest memory of it is my Tita Bessie, my mom's eldest sister, who was very sick when I was in kindergarten. I didn't know it was cancer until I was in grade school. I can't seem to understand what it was. I just knew she was sick. A few months later, she passed away. It was a blurry memory. I was a kid and I didn't feel the pain of losing a relative. I still didn't know that feeling. Tita Bessie taught me that losing a family member is a sad thing. I didn't know her pain as well.

Late in 2012, my friend Faye was diagnosed with Stage 1 cancer. In February 2013, she had a total hysterectomy. She had her entire reproductive system taken out. She is a survivor. A very brave woman that I will always look up to. You can read her story here.

Taken at Mom and Tina's in Mother's Day.

She was also the reason for my first ever blood donation. Actually, I donated blood when she had her myoma taken care of. It was part of my bucketlist.



I thought it would be the last for this season. Until last October. My father-in-law was diagnosed with lung cancer. It took us by surprise because he didn't smoke. He has been coughing since July 2013, but he kept stalling the whole going-to-the-doctor thing. He finally went on September after we attended a wedding in Cebu. I went to the hospital with Mama and Papa on the day the biopsy was scheduled.

He wasn't really 100% about the whole medication thing. Or that's how I see it. He lost so much weight. So has Mama. I have no idea how she is coping. I can't even imagine.

Weeks later, Jeff and I talked about it before going to bed. My husband, the always laughing and very strong man, just sobbed on my chest. That was the most heartbreaking thing I've ever seen since the day we knew about the cancer. That night, we held each other and cried ourselves to sleep.

The next morning, I went home to my mother and told her what was happening. I was trying to look for a job that time, but I was in a dilemma if I should or if I shouldn't get a job. My mom told me if it's possible, I should just stay home and look after everyone, especially my father-in-law. I am, after all, the least stressed among everyone at home. Jeff and I decided that I shouldn't get a job for now because Papa will be needing someone to be with when he goes to the hospital, or when he's doing his chemotherapy.

Papa had his first chemotherapy session in November of 2013. Mama took us to the hospital, but she couldn't stay because she had a partner's meeting in the office. Papa's sister, Tita Emma, was also there.

I never came this close to the Big C. Seeing the words CANCER CENTER posted on the wall, seeing people in wheelchairs, and had cover on their heads. I was taken back to that moment when my Tita Bessie was sick. So this was the right feeling to have at that time.

Adult ward.

The room.

The machine that they're using for the chemotherapy.

Yesterday, Papa had his third session. It was supposed to be last Monday, but his blood pressure was 160/100, so it was rescheduled. A day or two before the session, my father-in-law is required to have a CBC test that we will present on the day of the chemo. His CBC and weight will determine how much medicine they will give him. They give him three medicines at a time -- the first is to prevent him from vomiting, the second is a bottle of clear liquid (I don't know what it is) which takes about two hours to drain, and the last is another bottle of, according to them is, light sensitive liquid. I haven't really seen that last one because they cover it with a black bag when they hang it. The first session lasted for about six hours, but the second and third were like four to five hours.

The first chemo was the worst. Two days after the session, he seemed so weak and he could barely walk. The next session was better. Mama said he complained of achy bones, but he didn't seem as weak. It still is bad, but not as bad as the first one.

Until now, the whole cancer thing is still new to me. I'm not even sure if it has sunk in already. Maybe I still can't because Jeff needs me. Or maybe, I am still that clueless kindergartener.