How to Temper Optimism
June 29th, 2015
“That’s the problem” she said, “you’re always optimistic, trying to see the best possibility in every situation. Me, I’m a realist, I just don’t see it the same way as you.”*
I think it’s fair to say that this has been the case throughout life, I’ve generally been a positive person with my eyes firmly set on the future versus the past. However, these last few months it has been hard at times to see life in the same glimmering light. The last few weeks have been incredibly positive, but through it all I’ve been reminded to temper optimism.
Some great news in the last few weeks includes the fact that I was selected as National Science Foundation Graduate Research Fellow, a fellowship which will fully fund 3 years of my Ph.D. I feel incredibly honored, and honestly a just a bit lucky, as NSF awarded only 2,000 individuals from among 16,500 applicants in 2015. The recognition was humbling and shocking, and I was also encouraged to hear independent reviews that my proposal “should be a fruitful approach” that the “potential impacts…are very large” and that I am “well prepared for a highly successful research career in science.”
While the magnitude of this recognition has been incredible and exciting, I have had to keep my keep my full enthusiasm at bay. I will not be starting graduate school as soon as I would want; I have officially deferred my offer of admission at Stanford until next summer. This date is contingent upon on how quickly or slowly I recover, and I feel incredibly grateful that both the administration and my thesis advisor have been so accommodating of my situation.
As most of you are aware, I am currently fighting a second battle with Hodgkin’s Lymphoma. The clinical trial with brentuximab vedotin, the monoclonal antibody specific to this type of cancer, has gone well. There were some scary moments during the infusions when I experienced strong allergic reactions and decently painful muscle cramping. Despite the road bumps, a recent PET-scan showed that the drug has worked and I’m “in remission” again. The concept of “remission” no longer holds the same definitive, black and white assurance for me that it once did.
While I know that this diagnosis “remission” is only small step in the road to full recovery, it is important to recognize that it is a step in the right direction and neglecting to reflect on that progress would be a mistake. So for now, we are preparing for an autologous stem cell transplant, the details of which I plan to write more fully about later. I’ve been told the earliest that would happen would probably be at the middle of August.
In the midst of big victories or large setbacks, I am learning to savor the small moments with those I love. From glorious weekends in Boston to songs that come on the radio that remind you of dancing the night away at weddings, I am going to remain hopeful but practical, to allow the positives to be encouraging but not intoxicating. Essentially, for lack of better words, to temper optimism.
