Talking about this cancer diagnosis, many people become fearful at the mention of cancer, and I am the same.

It took me a full thirty days to truly accept the fact that I have cancer.
At first, I was really scared. Afraid I would die, and more afraid of being a burden to my family.
Many late nights, I would secretly hide under the covers and cry. That fear was like a tide, wave after wave, almost drowning me.
But when I finally accepted this reality, everything suddenly seemed different.
People enter a strange state between enlightenment and non-enlightenment — as if nothing matters, yet at the same time, everything is especially precious.
Days passed day by day, and I gradually truly realized:
This world is actually very beautiful, and there are so many people who sincerely love me.
They feel sorry for me, cry for me, and send me messages late at night saying “Hang in there, we’re all here.”
I also suddenly realized that I am loved by so many people, and I am also someone worth loving.
The road to fighting cancer is not easy, but surprisingly, almost all my fellow patients are positive and cheerful.
The ward is often filled with laughter and joy, completely different from what I imagined as heavy and somber.
Every time I am hospitalized, there are always patients standing by my bed, chatting, sharing their conditions, exchanging precautions, and also sharing fruits and snacks.
I’ve never seen anyone with a perpetual frown; instead, everyone encourages and warms each other.
It turns out that besides life and death, there really is nothing major in this world.
And even life and death are not the biggest things.
I have grown to like sharing more and more.
Every time I go to the hospital, I ask my mom to pack some buns and dumplings to bring to the doctors, nurses, and fellow patients.
Seeing them smile and say “Delicious,” makes me very happy inside.
The nurses treat me like a little kid, coaxing me.
Every chemotherapy session, they either joke with me or gently comfort me: “Be good, it won’t hurt.”
The director who installed my infusion port is especially gentle, but I am very afraid of pain.
Whenever he approaches, I nervously ask, “What are you going to do?”
He smiles and says, “Just disinfect you first.”
I still keep asking, “And what is this?”
Looking back now, I think I was so silly and adorable.
I am actually very grateful for this illness.
Although it came suddenly, it taught me to slow down, to truly feel love, and it also mellowed my personality a lot.
These are treasures I can’t find elsewhere in life.
I believe I will get better.
And I also believe — after surviving great difficulties, good fortune will follow.