This photo… it’s raw, honest, and a little scary, I know. This is what I look like now, on the outside, after so much struggle. A little swollen, with purple marks that tell stories of intense treatments, and this tiredness that seems to have become my companion. And this thumbs-up?

These thoughts come again and again, like waves that don’t stop. I try to stay calm. I remind myself that the doctors are good, that they have done this many times before. I remind myself that I have already survived so much. But still… fear finds a way back in.

Tonight feels longer than any night I have ever lived. The clock moves slowly, almost as if time itself understands what I’m going through. Every minute feels like an hour. The silence in the room is loud, filled with thoughts I cannot escape.

But in this silence, I also think about the people I love.

I think about my family, about their smiles, their voices, the way they try to stay strong for me. I think about the small moments—laughing at something silly, sitting together without saying anything, feeling safe just because they are there. These memories remind me why I have to keep fighting.