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One day I was coming back from my study centre after collecting my books for a semester. It was a huge bundle of books, hence I took an auto to reach home.After sometime the autorickshaw driver started conversating with me. Here's how the conversation happened.He: Ma'am aap kya padh rahe ho?(Ma'am what are you studying)I explained him about my course.He: Ma'am is university me apply kaise kar sakte hain. Mai kuch padha iske baare me but aap ache se bata paoge. (How can one apply for a course in this university? I've done some reading on this, but you'll be able to guide me better)I told him how to get a form and prospectus and finally apply.Me: Aap padhna chahte ho bhaiya? Ye to bohot achi baat hai. (You want to study, it's great.)He: Nahi.Ma'am mai nai. Meri wife haina, wo padhna chahti hai aage. To mai uske liye pata kar raha hoon. Mai Soch raha hoon use enroll kara doon course me jaldi. ( No ma'am not me, my wife wants to study. That's why I was asking all this. I want to get her enrolled in a course asap)I was surprised to hear that but at the same time it warmed my heart. I was a happy person that day. I got down of the auto but before that I made sure that I give him all the necessary details and wished him luck for everything.I really hoped he was able to do what he had planned for his wife.It was certainly an "India is changing" moment for me.

Yes! And I am curently. Here is my story…Just over 10 years ago, in December 2009, I came down with pneumonia and was feeling very bad for several weeks despite taking powerful antibiotics. So I went in for a new X-ray and that time they found something suspicious in my left lung. A biopsy (a horrible broncoscopy performed while I was conscious!) showed it to be non-small cell adenocarcinoma, malignant lung cancer. Further scans showed that it had spread to my pelvis and several vertebrae in my spine, including one in my neck. That meant it was stage 4. Yep, stage 4 lung cancer in me, a non- smoking and otherwise healthy woman of 46. WTF!!!It was shocking, devastating, horrible news and both I and my family were terrified. I was immediately set up to start a powerful course of chemotherapy and radiation for the lesion in my C2 neck vertebra. Although I was very happy to start chemo and be doing something to fight the cancer, chemo was brutal and made me feel awful in ways I’d never experienced before and can’t even explain. Imagine having a severe hangover and extreme jet lag together with debilitating fatigue and dizziness. My blood platelets plummeted and I had to get transfusions, my blood count fell to dangerously low levels and required transfusions, my mucous membranes were damaged and my nose bled constantly, running and dripping down my chin and onto my clothes. Everything tasted bad and eating became a major chore. My hair grew thinner and thinner and my skin became pale and grayish.And while all of this was going on I continued to manage my own business and take care of my children as best I could. My husband was, and is, hugely supportive and helpful. But my extended family lives on the other side of the world and we had zero outside help from anyone, which made things extremely challenging at times.I received (and am still receiving) excellent medical care and, because I live in Sweden, it’s not costing me anything extra since it’s financed by taxes. Thank God for that. Having cancer or any serious illness is bad enough without having to be overwhelmed financially by the cost of treatment. I responded well to the brutal chemo, which lasted for less than six weeks but took years to fully recover from. It was only meant to short term and they cut it shorter in my case because I had already shown some improvement and was having a lot of debilitating side effects from it. I was then given intravenous treatments with Avastin, an anti-angiogen that prevents new blood vessels from forming, thus preventing the tumors from growing. That worked for over a year and had no unpleasant side effects, but eventually the lesions showed some minor growth so that I was switched to a long-term maintenance chemo drug called Alimta every three weeks with a type and dosage aimed at keeping the cancer in check while giving me a reasonably high quality of life. It was far, far easier to live with than the initial chemo but still left me feeling tired and vaguely nauseous all the time, with particularly severe effects on the 5th day after treatment.In the mean time, my mother in the US had read an article about a new targeted treatment for lung cancer that was being tested around the world and wondered if that might be something I could try. So I asked my doctor about it and he said that it was only for a certain mutation of my lung cancer type so that they would need to test me and send the sample to the drug company’s laboratory in Belgium to to see if I had that mutation. Fortunately, they were able to use material from my previous biopsy so that no new procedure was needed.And they found that I did have the mutation! I never thought I could be so happy about something like that, but I was elated because it meant I was eligible to take part in the study. So I was enrolled and all participants are randomly assigned to either the group being given the new drug or the control group receiving an existing treatment, in this case Alimta which I had already been using for several years. I naturally ended up in the control group and continued on Alimta for about a year until the drug, which was known as crizotinib during the study but was named Xalkori, was approved and became commercially available.So I was immediately switched to Xalkori, which is administered orally in the form of capsules, not intravenously. It was a lot easier to live with than the chemo in several ways - it didn’t affect my appetite as much, it didn’t cause as much fatigue and I no longer had to go to the hospital for intervenous chemo every three weeks. I took it for about a year and a half but then scans showed some minor progression of the cancer so I was switched to another new drug called Zykadia (certinib) that works in a similar way.I started with the maximum dosage, 5 capsules, which made me feel pretty awful, but settled on a dosage of three capsules per day. Like Xalkori, it’s easy to live with and the main side effects for me are a slightly lower appetite and that some foods/beverages don’t taste like they used to. The drug is also kind of hard on my stomach and I often have acid indigestion and need take omeprazole (Prilosec, Losec) everyday to keep it under control.I get both CT scans and bone scans regularly, get blood samples taken every three weeks and get intravenous doses of a bone strengthening substance every 3–4 weeks. It has become a way of life and I am used to it by now. Cancer doesn’t have to be an immediate death sentence, even when it’s stage 4. New drugs and treatment regimes are really making a difference and giving people both longer to lives and, crucially, higher quality of life.As many people know, the greatest suffering in cancer often comes from the traditional treatments given to combat it. And if you know that the awful side effects of the treatment are only temporary and may be effective, you can learn to accept the suffering as part of the treatment. But new treatments are having very positive effects while also giving patients much higher quality of life, which is the real difference. Because what kind of life do you have if you feel like crap 24/7? Exactly.So what I really want to say is this - If you or someone close to you has been diagnosed with stage 4 cancer, there is plenty of hope. Depending on what type of cancer, how much it had spread and which organs it has affected, there are effective new drugs and treatment regimes that could possibly keep your cancer from spreading further and give you a longer and better life than was possible earlier treatments.So don’t give up, and be sure to read up and ask about new treatments, studies you can take part in, etc. One of the most important thing I have learned during these 10 years with cancer is that it’s super important for patients and their families to play an active role in treatment - ask questions, tell healthcare professionals what you want and need, stay informed and up to date about new treatments and studies, and be a strong and active advocate for yourself or your loved one. Good doctors respect and welcome patient input because it helps them to help you.Living with cancer is like living with any chronic illness, whether it’s diabetes, MS, rheumatism, etc. You take medications, get treatments, have regular appointments with doctors and nurses and pretty quickly get used to that way of life. It’s doable, people! So don’t just freak out or give up, there is plenty of hope. I was diagnosed with incurable stage 4 lung cancer more than 10 years ago and thought it meant the end for me. But instead, I have been given many more years in which I have been able to work, travel, grow as a person, have good times with my friends, visit and make new memories with my beloved mother, siblings and extended family, and, mostly importantly, raise my three children to adulthood and be the mother and wife I want and my family needs me to be. It’s been a bumpy road but I’m still alive and kicking and very happy to be here! Cheers!UPDATE 27 November 2020: Hello, friends! I wanted to update you on the current situation. This spring my scan showed that the cancer had spread to my brain - a few tiny lesions scattered around. This is extremely common with the type of lung cancer I have and I have been expecting this for some time. I can’t feel the lesions at all, so they are only affecting me emotionally at this point. Because if the new lesions, I was switched to a new medication called Alecensa that is better at crossing the blood-brain barrier than Zycadia. I take two capsules in the morning and two in the evening.The only side effect is major water retention, like about 11 lbs/5 kg, which is annoying but livable. My once so slender ankles are a just distant memory now and diuretics are my friend, sob sob. But seriously, I was a bit freaked out when I found out it had spread to my brain but I do actually feel fine so it hasn’t affected my physically. My latest scan showed zero growth, so yay for that!As of this month it is 11 years since I was diagnosed. I still have just as much cancer as I did then, slightly more in fact, but aside from various aches and pains from my bone lesions, I feel pretty darn good! Still going strong at 57!Lots of love to all of you cancer survivors and unite families. These are hard times with the pandemic keeping families apart, and I wish you all the best of health and happiness to get us through this crisis.

When my brother and I were little kids we minded ourselves after school. We didn’t have a microwave, so naturally, we learned to cook at a very early age.We kids learned a lot from watching cooking shows on PBS. I remember one day seeing a program instructing people how to make fry bread. We loved fry bread! The recipe seemed so simple that even a nine-year-old could pull it off.We assembled the ingredients, then mixed up a batch of dough which looked, satisfyingly enough, like the stuff they made on the t.v. Dumping oil into a skillet and cranking up the heat, we waited for the oil to come to a slight bubble as instructed.I was much too small to reach the stove. I climbed up onto the countertop and sat, perched over the molten hot, sizzling pan with my tongs at the ready, plopping the floury dough into the sizzling oil beneath me.I held on to the lip of the cabinets with my free hand in order to keep my balance, as the dough cooked and puffed up in the treacherous oil. The dough patties turned a pleasing golden-brown when they were finished. Oil popped out and twinged my skin occasionally, but I endured.Easy-peasy.My brother stood by, with plates lined with paper towels to soak up the extra grease as I passed down the piping hot pastries with tongs, assembly-line style.We had pounds of flour, gallons of oil, a few boxes of baking powder and loads of salt. Our project continued well into the evening until every bit of oil was soaked up and the kitchen started to get smoked out; bits of fry bread—charcoaled, blackened flour debris—were left floating in the nearly flash-point roiling oil. The kitchen was coated in a thin sheen as my brother began to skate across the grease-slickened floors with his loaded plates.Thankfully, that is the moment mother walked in the door.She immediately rushed over, pulled me off the counter and took the skillet off the heat before it burst into flames.“We made dinner, mommy!”Plates of fry bread covered every available surface. Stacks of frybread were piled on the counters three-plates deep. When we ran out of plates to stack our fry bread on, we used frying pans. When we ran out of those, we simply took to stacking them on cardboard boxes in the dining room. When we ran out of surfaces in the dining room, we transported the crusty pastries to our rooms. Not all off them made it to a plate. Some had accidentally slipped off during transport and had been neglected on the floor. The dog had already eaten her fill of the discards and had found a quiet corner to hide away and nurse her belly ache.The place looked like a Dunkin' Donuts after a hurricane.We'd used every single utensil we had during our project, every wooden spoon, spatula, cake server, tea strainer, egg separator, chopsticks and even the cheese graters and can openers. Neither one of us had cooked with hot oil before; it took some experimenting before we discovered which tools were the most useful.The sink was filled to overflowing with dirty dishes. We didn't have a dish washer back then. Everything would need to be washed by hand.Empty cardboard tubes, from an entire wholesale supply of discounted paper towels, were discarded in every corner on the floor where they'd rolled out of the overflowing trash bag.Flour covered every surface— the floor, countertops, even the ceiling. Tiny white-floured fingerprints covered the cabinetry, doorknobs, light switches, chairs and refrigerator— the house looked like a crime scene, white-dusted for prints. A fine-flour mist hung in the air.The floor was covered in a grease layer. Slippery. Disgusting. The ceiling directly underneath the stove had a brown spot, which proved to be permanent, even after mother tried mopping it off with pine cleaner.This is the scene which greeted my mother after a hard day's work. Mother's shoulders slumped when she saw our mess. Who can blame her? Single mother on a fixed income. Hard working mother— and to come home to that mess?But she wasn't angry with us.She sat down to dinner, and feasted on our fry bread (with butter and honey) and then, like all good mothers would do, she told us it was the best fry bread she had ever eaten in her entire life.She cleaned up our mess, which took hours past her bedtime. She must have been exhausted at work the next day.Months later, she enrolled us in a cooking class at the college—College For Kids, Culinary Adventure—where we learned to create several other messes in the kitchen for her to clean up afterwards.Fry bread recipe—(don't knead too much)4 cups all-purpose flour1 tablespoon baking powder4 cups shortening for frying1/2 teaspoon salt1 1/2 cups warm waterForm into dough patties and fry in skillet until golden-brown.