To be 60 and thriving...
Twenty-three months ago, my mom, Lata, was diagnosed with stage 4 diffuse large B-cell lymphoma (DLBCL). That sentence made no sense to me until finally it did: cancer. I Googled what the difference between stage 4 and stage 5 meant, and it turns out, there is no such thing as stage 5. I hated the internet that day.
Those 10 minutes of anger and disbelief shifted quickly into a state of survival. I listened to every warning the doctor gave and made sure we followed every rule to the T. She could not afford to lose weight, she could not get sick, she needed to stay motivated and exercise, but most of all, she needed to keep living life positively. She even gave up her daily morning chai. We worked with a nutritionist and changed her diet to include at least 50 grams of protein a day before she started her first round of chemotherapy. She transitioned into a diet that would help her maintain her weight during six rounds of chemo. By the end of it, she had not only maintained her strength but had actually gained a few pounds.
Our family was the key to getting her through those six months. My oldest sister and brother-in-law flew across the country for nearly every round of chemo. Every visit lit up her eyes and reminded her that she was not fighting alone. They helped her keep a positive attitude with mantras, affirmations, constant phone calls, and even the joyful suspense of finding out if her future grandchild would be a girl or a boy (it is a girl!).
My dad stepped up in a way I never expected. He watched over my mom at night, made sure she took her medications, and sat with her at every appointment. He even started cooking for himself and adjusted his morning routine so that her days could be a little easier. He was her quiet but steady anchor, and his presence gave her strength in ways words cannot capture.
My other sister, Avani, unknowingly became everyone’s hype squad and source of support. She encouraged my mom to take walks, kept her mood light, and made us laugh at moments when we needed it most. Her bubbly personality became the only thing keeping the rest of us from spiraling, and her energy reminded us that joy could still exist even in the middle of hardship.
Our extended family and friends were a safe space. They treated her as if everything was normal, but they also showed up for chemo rounds and hospital stays. They helped us navigate complicated medical terms and concepts, and they celebrated with us when her bloodwork finally showed signs of improvement.
And then there were the strangers who quickly stopped feeling like strangers. The medical team at Kaiser Permanente gave my mom the compassion and encouragement she needed at every appointment. They celebrated her milestones with her, especially when she rang the bell after her final chemo. I will always be grateful for her oncologist, Dr. Gamal, for his unwavering care. Beyond the hospital walls, coworkers, friends, my brother-in-law’s patients, and even distant community groups lifted her in prayer and positivity.
At first, my mom tried to keep her cancer a secret. She was scared, embarrassed, and determined to hide what she was going through. But one day, she accidentally sent a text to the wrong group chat. She spent so much time afraid of being isolated from her community that she never considered that they would actually be a source of support and free her. Her behavior and mental health changed drastically when she saw her friends care for her and check in on her regularly. That mistake brought in more love and support than she ever imagined. Her outlook changed, her hope grew, and she discovered that vulnerability did not isolate her. It connected her.
That is when I realized: cancer is never just one person’s battle. It is a community’s fight.
Every nightmare I had during that year fueled my determination to make sure she got better. And she did. Life is not perfect, but today my mom is healthy, thriving, and celebrated her 60th birthday surrounded by family, joy, and hope for the future.
Her story is proof that science, hope, and community can change the outcome. Organizations like Blood Cancer United (formerly LLS) and care teams, such as those at Kaiser Permanente, make these milestones possible. My mom’s journey to 60 was not just about surviving. It was about thriving.
I share this story as her youngest daughter, in gratitude for the support that carried us through, and in the hope that it inspires others to keep fighting, keep supporting, and keep believing in better days ahead.
Hemali
Family member and caregiver
