Mahanth Joishy is Editor of usindiamonitor

New to this story? For context you can find Chapter 1 here + Chapter 2 here + Chapter 3 here.

As it turns out today is an important day in a challenging and long journey through my new reality that began on St. Patrick’s Day 2023. A very good day. I have reached this 6 month milestone since my diagnosis with great difficulty. When the spirit so moved me in recent months I publicly shared heartfelt updates here along the way, though this website is supposed to be about national and world affairs. I never dreamed it would get rolled into a venue for describing my personal health. It still feels uncomfortable to codify these deeply intimate thoughts. On the other hand pivoting hard inward in my writing forced by uniquely personal circumstances seemed necessary for therapeutic reasons, has added a new dimension to my craft, and offered an opportunity to add value with universal implications to the discourse that have enriched my views and buttressed my flagging optimism when it comes to affairs ranging from the personal to the global, the micro to the macro.

These are the most intimate thoughts from me you have ever read unless you are one of the few living members from my past romantic life, LOL. I am grateful and humbled that so many people are readily choosing to follow along and travel this road with me. For Chapter 4 I somehow feel it’s worth revealing a few new tidbits about my long journey.

First and foremost, I can never hope to convey in words the strength and hope during my life’s darkest hours from the positive vibes and prayers from family, friends, acquaintances, and complete strangers since March in response to these blog posts. They are the most read articles published on usindiamonitor this year although I wish some of my other writings won that distinction. Still, I am proud. I would gladly bet my life without hesitation that the invisible and silent waves of spirituality lovingly charged with unstoppable force being sent in my general direction from around the world, from near to far, have made a tangible difference to my health. In the future I am sure humanity will produce more scientific evidence to prove this can be so and demystifies the how and why the vibrations matter. And I’m plotting to pay it forward. The many positive voices of encouragement requesting that I keep writing about this journey as it continues is the only reason I’ve been able to dig deeper inside myself to find the emotional and physical energy to type out these words, as my vitality has dropped to an all-time low in these last months. My general level of focus has also suffered, and writing takes extended focus. Finally, revealing my innermost thoughts about myself is both a great burden and an unburdening at the same time. This effort has reached beyond my comprehension or ability to explain. What I do know is that I am glad to have decided to share so far. No regrets. My overarching goal in chronicling this journey remains to inform, entertain, and hopefully pick up others going through difficult times in their life, as all of us suffer in one way or another in this moment or that, whether it comes to health or other major issues. Such is the reality of the land of the living.

I demand that you take away from this update a feeling of pleasure, not pain or sorrow. Don’t you dare feel bad for me or sorry for my circumstances. Don’t cry for me, Argentina! The news is great and this chapter is the most uplifting to date.

I published Chapter 1 on May 28, when so much was new, uncertain, and daunting. My body was going through strange and unpleasant things and I was struggling mightily to manage the dramatic whirlwind of emotions and physical manifestations of my new condition. I felt sorry for myself. I was confused. There were more questions than answers for a while. There was a lot of negativity floating ominously in the air around me. I was running to hospitals and clinics all over town for an aggressive schedule of various medical appointments that in itself made my head spin. At the time I unveiled the desperate desire to one day be able to view my condition of lymphoma as a blessing rather than an anchor threatening to drag me down into a downward spiral of self-pity and failing health, following the towering example set by courageous modern American heroes John McCain and James Stockdale. For several long months, every morning I woke up in fear and every night I went to bed with doubt. And unearthing the hidden blessing in my circumstances seemed very far off.

I promised myself and others at the outset to fight to the gates of Hell and back if necessary to win the game, without knowing what the contours of the game were. At the time the declaration was made I was nowhere close, and unable to even fathom how to wring wins out of my diagnosis. But it is with a sense of humility, joy and most of all gratitude that I’m reporting on my progress. At this hour I can honestly say for the first time that I have fully embraced the unwelcome cancerous passenger that riddles my body. My diagnosis of lymphoma has finally become a full blessing, only as of today, not a day earlier. I hope that this warm feeling towards the uninvited guest that grew inside me continues through the ups and downs that lie ahead, for the fight is far from over, probably years to go, and the only certainty is that the road to recovery will be paved with difficult decision points.

At the 6 month mark since diagnosis I am physically doing much better now because the degree of lymphoma has been beaten down by the treatment plan according to the results from medical tests conducted earlier today. This matches my reduction in lymphoma internal pain and external skin attacks. I will finally be switching from the infusions that started in April to oral medications to treat the lymphoma. I did suffer through some severe side effects along the way that were mentioned in previous chapters, and these still linger. But the latest news is unequivocally optimal. Helping me get to this level of healing were the vigilant mindset of positivity (Chapter 1) and the disciplined adherence to unplanned newly adopted life principles, the foremost of which was learning to just let things go that previously would have greatly disturbed my internal balance. This was the one thing I needed to change about my life above all else to make progress and heal (Chapter 2). While the battle is far from over I have learned to power through the worst of the side effects, which have kept clawing their way into my fragile psyche to the point of one particularly nasty side effect deserving its very own chapter in the story (Chapter 3). Who knew that my sense of taste would not only fail me, but destroy my happiness beyond all the others? The alteration of this one sense launched a cycle of torture and loathing of food that I’d classify as equally as bad as the many sleepless, itchy nights I suffered through for more than two years courtesy the cancerous skin that covered my whole body.

So why do I finally view my lymphoma affectionately as a blessing for the first time today, why now, and can this last? It’s all come together through a series of revelations and experiences that needed some time to build and synthesize in my brain. I believe the sentiment will be permanent, which is an exciting prospect.

Toughening Up. Without question I am orders of magnitude tougher today than I ever was before this St. Patrick’s Day. By chance this state of being arrived at middle age and not during my peak physical years. I am easily more courageous than before too. I am better equipped to handle future challenges, and this just wasn’t true before, as much as I’d prefer to claim otherwise. In my past I associated toughness with never backing down from the opportunity to prove something to myself with a short-term physical feat of strength in arenas of competition that could be labeled as wars of attrition. It was a one-dimensional viewpoint. As a high school varsity athlete this included running hard through the 3.1 miles of long distance cross country races against stiff competition until the point of almost puking at the finish line; or playing deep into the final set of a tennis match against a worthy opponent in a 1-on-1 battle of sheer wills as my muscles cramped painfully; or impressing my peers in the Richmond Heights, Ohio Spartans weight room by benching 180 lbs. or doing 110 straight pushups while weighing in at 110 lbs. myself. Like many adolescent males, in those days I spent way too much time admiring my bulging biceps and washboard abs in the mirror. And these assets were what made me feel tough.

A bit later in life I equated the concept of toughness with pulling all-nighters to study for college exams or to complete bull sessions in the dorm lounges of good friends until the sun came up. We could argue that this upgraded view of toughness was at least an evolution in the right direction as it added nerdy priorities to the shallow, raw, sweaty male adolescent displays of physical endurance that would impress the girls and boys in the audience. Finally as a real adult after college my standards for assessing grit morphed into new, more mature areas of endeavor. I thought of myself as a tough guy for overcoming epic challenges in the workplace against powerful and passionate resistance, with my government career and principles on the line. Some of these bureaucratic battles took 3 years of intense strategy and energy. Looking back, none of that was really very tough compared to facing off against lymphoma and reconfiguring every aspect of my life to enjoin that battle. It wasn’t my fault, and this isn’t about blame, but in truth I just didn’t used to be as tough as I liked to think I was. I was actually pretty weak, most of all mentally, when this long dance began. I was scared of the unknown. The stakes of my past accomplishments or defeats in life were nowhere near this high. And for the universe suddenly providing this opportunity to taste what real toughness means, at a level that is meaningful, for taking a weak man and teaching him how to grow stronger and overcome fear, I will be grateful for the rest of my life.

Empathy for the Other. Another surprise gift from confronting this extremely rare lymphoma is gaining unprecedented access to truly feeling the pain and suffering of other humans, as opposed to only thinking I did. This manifests into a new superpower in the realm of human connection that perhaps can only be arrived at by stumbling through serious hardship for yourself. I sense an unmistakable difference that is forging me into a better person. My ability to empathize with fellow earthlings facing difficulty is magnitudes higher now than before, just like my toughness. This is not to say I was incapable of kind gestures before. In the past I would readily provide condolences, ideas, or other types of support to someone I cared about if they were going through a rough patch. But till now I never fully realized how little I could comprehend what he or she was going through. I aspired to help others solve problems with cold logic and rational tactics. I had little patience for hand wringing and despair. In fact I had an aversion to getting down into the mud alongside where people sometimes found themselves, because my guards were always up and my sympathy was hampered by an innate desire to protect myself emotionally. I was always more likely to offer people in trouble, say, financial assistance or a place to crash for a while rather than a listening ear. I always felt that was for professional therapists. I also often felt that people just needed to work harder to fix their situation, snap out of it, and stop feeling sorry for themselves. In fact, one of my running jokes throughout my adult life was “I don’t have time for your problems.” But a forced lowering of those emotional guards lately has become rewarding in my ability to connect with people on a deeper level. This does not only apply to others suffering through cancer or other disease, although those of us who fall into this category are definitely capable of deep bonds indeed as I’ve learned.

This reframing of empathy is close to total and complete in comparison to where I used to be. Most surprising and powerful to behold in my transition toward greater empathy is an increased level of understanding for those types of people I used to dislike. This newfound line of sight might be the most benevolent change occurring in my mindset of all. We too often fall into the trap of tribalism too easily and I was no exception. This extends from politics, to the workplace, religion, to country of origin. Life is too short for us to be alienating ourselves from each other and falling into comfortable echo chambers, no matter how disagreeable and unfamiliar outsiders may seem. Empathy allows us to recognize the understandable and rational patterns behind what makes people we disagree with think the way they do, while accepting they might also still be decent human beings despite our divergence in ideas and passions. Those who belong to tribes other than mine now feel closer to my orbit with less ill-will compared to where I was just 6 months ago. More people rowing in this general direction is how we will compromise, get things done, and solve the biggest problems facing society rather than bickering endlessly while the world crumbles around us. My newfound enthusiasm for thinking empathetically coupled with negotiating my own personal gauntlet to this point has given me renewed optimism that solutions are possible for anything and everything that is in our way, from the household to the geopolitical arena. This sense of possibility is incredibly refreshing during hard times at both micro and macro levels. My relationship to empathy has gone from being a weakness of my personality to a weapon in the arsenal I can draw on for more meaningful connection.

Being the Most Cheerful Person in the Room. This simple new aspiration of mine for all times is somewhat related and greased by feelings of empathy. For many years in various social settings, I used to like to think of myself as the smartest person in the room. This made me feel good and the opinion used to animate me. There is of course no scientific way to judge who the smartest person in any room is beyond a useless silent declaration within one’s own head. There was no tangible proof whether I was right or wrong in my assessments, nor could it ever come up in polite conversation to compare notes. It was simply a highly subjective way of looking at interpersonal situations to compare myself against others, and not really productive for that matter. It was one of many aspects of the vanity that defined me. Nowadays my priorities have taken a different direction towards something superior and more useful: I have promised myself that at all times to the maximum extent possible, I will try to be the happiest person in the room. This policy will never be easy, especially when taking into account developments and mood swings day to day. But it’s a worthy effort, and the win is collective instead of individual. Competition on this metric is not the end goal here; rather than machismo the policy is to spread joy to everyone else in the room so that they are all aboard the train of good feelings, and the good cheer permeates all who are present, to be enjoyed by everyone in that particular setting and the next one everyone ends up in after dispersing, and so on like a domino effect. This is more than possible because we know that smiles, laughs, and happiness are contagious just like sadness and outrage are. The problem is we spend more time spreading conflict than projecting love.

I was largely an optimistic and cheerful person before, but my new condition has made me recognize that my outlook needed to be kicked up a notch further if I were to outlast the bout with cancer, and that projecting positivity whenever possible to others would carry extra weight considering my condition, and also prevent people from feeling bad for me. I hate being the subject of pity. Becoming attracted to and mirroring the happy around us is a wise choice we can make for our collective health and sanity, just like allowing anger or another negative emotion to infiltrate our minds and social settings is a constant risk, communicable and toxic.

The future is not yet written but I feel more optimistic about it than ever thanks to the surprise gifts described above that could only have manifested into my mindset over time as a result of a difficult prognosis. The optimism applies to both my own future and that of our species, both of which are facing substantial roadblocks ahead. My appreciation for each precious moment of life on this planet is newly heightened as a result of a disease and I will aim never to take my time for granted again, in sickness and in health. I am banking on the cycle of changes I’ve consciously made self-promulgating into a virtuous loop, as continuous affirmation of my gratitude helps my body to heal faster.

This is where it all started: the journey, the hope, the proverbial pen being applied to paper that turned into this series, and the very first atoms in my body kicking into high gear for recovery and rejuvenation. To get from the beginning to here I owe a deep debt of gratitude to gratitude itself. I could not fake this, or rush it. Giving sincere thanks to the universe after it dealt you a shocking bad hand can only emerge on its own stubborn timeline. I feel immensely grateful for the many factors in my corner that have already amplified my chances of success on the battlefield. Gratitude is something that all of us should make an effort to achieve regularly, despite the severity of our problems, because it is such a sweet feeling. Never before have I been as thankful on a regular basis for the things in my life that are both mundane and profound, that went right or went strange. I could not make this up or live with myself if I was lying: never before have I felt so blessed. The day I was earnestly, anxiously waiting for with all my heart has finally arrived. Today is my first major victory, and winning feels good. It had to happen on its own schedule. It could not be expedited. The process has been painful but the truth remains. Today I have finally turned the corner, with body and mind. My current state is gently floating in an uplifting space of relief and joy all rolled into one.

Now just watch what happens next.