At the age of 23

Everything changes

It felt surreal, focusing on having a good time with her friends—the ones she had missed deeply during her studies. Yet, her thoughts became inundated with questions: How did she let it go this far? How had she abused tanning? Why hadn't she taken better care of herself? Memories flooded back of the times she endured second- and third-degree sunburns. She recalled a day from her childhood when she waited under the sun for her parents to pick her up, resulting in the worst sunburn she'd ever had. Blisters formed on her shoulders, bursting painfully, and the heat made everything unbearable. She remembered trying to sleep almost in a sitting position, unable to move due to the pain.

"Okay, that's enough!" she would think, forcing herself to focus on something else. "Let's not let these thoughts consume me." Surrounded by her friends, Gabriela found distraction in their laughter and shared moments. The trip was enjoyable, but she felt a nagging sense of seclusion; she couldn't tell them about her diagnosis because she had promised her mom, who would often say, "Los trapos sucios se lavan en casa." Yet, this saying only deepened her feelings of isolation, making it harder to connect.

She longed to join her friends under the sun, watching them slather on sunscreen and wishing she could apply it for them. There were moments of sadness, but she made an effort to redirect her thoughts. When she returned home, the reality of her situation loomed large again, marked by a series of medical appointments, blood tests, and an awful contrast-enhanced ultrasound.

As the date for her surgery approached, she remained shaken. Each time she visited the hospital, tears would threaten to spill over, the weight of her diagnosis becoming more tangible. After the surgery, she wore a plaster on her back with strict instructions to avoid anything that would stretch the scar—and she dutifully complied.

In the days that followed, Gabriela found herself reflecting deeply, applying for theatre jobs and contemplating her transition to London. There was so much to think about. When the day arrived for her follow-up appointment to see if the cancerous mole had metastasized, she felt a mix of hope and anxiety. Her mom accompanied her, and luckily, the results were clear: there was no cancer. It was a profound relief, a "no" to cancer and a "yes" to focusing on what Gabriela truly wanted.

She knew that turning 23 had been tough, but now she understood the importance of being kind to herself. Afterward, she confided in her mom that it was her life, and she wanted to navigate this differently. Feeling emboldened, she shared her diagnosis with two close friends. They expressed their sadness that she hadn't told them sooner and reassured her they would have loved to be there for her.

Gabriela hugged her friends tightly, feeling blessed to have opened up. Saying the word "cancer" out loud felt challenging, but somehow, sharing it lessened its power over her. She began participating in theatre productions, where people would often ask her about her scar. With a mixture of sadness and strength, she spoke about it, reclaiming her narrative and allowing her experience to empower her.

Through the act of sharing, Gabriela felt a shift within herself. No longer was she defined solely by her diagnosis; she was a survivor, a storyteller, and an artist ready to embrace life's next chapter.