Editor - Influencer
"I am starting one of the most difficult pieces I've ever written. It will be very long. I cannot summarize it. I will cry while writing because everything I’ve been holding inside will come out. And now, by announcing it to everyone, I’ll truly realize it’s real. That will make it even harder."
What Have We Been Through? What Are We Experiencing? Why Has “Cancer” Become the Subject Again?
What have we been going through since mid-November? I still cannot believe it. It feels like I’m watching a movie.
Those who know me know how much I adore my uncles and what we’ve experienced in recent years. I have four uncles, all younger than my mom. Sadly, one of them is no longer with us, but I know he is always with us in spirit. I share a lot about our family relationships on social media.
I realize I’m struggling to start this. I don’t know where to begin.
My youngest uncle and I have an 11-year age gap. We’ve always been more like siblings than uncle and niece. Always. When I was taking the entrance exam for Anatolian High Schools, I said, “I won’t go unless my uncle comes.” He rushed to Ankara, only 22 at the time. We bicker like siblings, but we also hug like siblings. Our bond is unique.
In November, he went to the doctor for a persistent cough and had a chest X-ray. He sent me the results. Without telling him, I showed it to a radiologist friend who immediately said he needed a CT scan. His own doctor said the same. He had to travel abroad for work, but I kept pestering him to return because my friend had given me a rough idea of what might be wrong. I couldn’t tell him, though. I just kept urging him to get that CT scan.
The CT scan led to an urgent PET scan, which then confirmed a diagnosis: stage four lung cancer. Metastases in the bones, liver, and chest cavity.
Until the CT results came in, my mother didn’t know anything. My uncle is like her first child; there’s a 13-year age gap between them. I won’t describe how devastated she was. You’ll understand. You’ll guess. It’s indescribable. Words cannot capture it.
We received all the results together, read the PET scan report together, and went to the doctors together. Not just one doctor—multiple doctors. Life-changing decisions cannot be made based on one opinion alone. Scans, tests, the nerve-wracking wait for results—it’s all a process.
Standing tall beside him, only to collapse at home... Realizing I couldn’t cry and that the weight was crushing me, I once asked Arkın, “Can you stroke my head?” just to let it all out and release the lump in my throat. Not knowing how I even drove the car... Staying at my mom’s house all night, comforting her until morning... Pretending everything was fine on social media, talking about unrelated things with a breaking heart... Playing an Oscar-worthy role for everyone. From the very beginning, when I was the only one who knew what the results would be.
One day, after a doctor’s appointment, I was alone. I went to a room to charge my phone, plugged it in, thought I’d just rest my eyes for a moment—and fell asleep. My body shut down.
Together with my uncle, we evaluated everything, spoke to everyone, and did our research. We went to every single radiotherapy session together. We got angry together at certain things. We laughed together. It’s a very challenging process, having those open and raw conversations while looking someone in the eye. You do things you thought you could never do.
I cannot share hospital or doctor names; it wouldn’t be appropriate. Please don’t ask me. And please don’t suggest remedies like “Have him eat this or that.” We are only following the doctors’ advice. What works for one person might not work for another. The doctors know the patient best, as they understand the full context of their condition. That’s why it’s important to follow their guidance.
Yes, medicine has advanced significantly, and treatments have changed. We see many examples of this. But as you can imagine, this is not an easy journey. Today, chemotherapy started. I couldn’t be there, but we stayed in touch constantly over the phone.
I know I’m not expressing myself well. It must sound emotionless when you read it, right? But it’s not like that... Beyond my feelings, there’s something else I want to convey about this disease and process.
Please, trust only your doctors. Everyone has advice, starting with “My cousin’s cousin went through the same thing.” Some people unknowingly bring up bad examples. Don’t share too much before making decisions. Discuss everything with your doctors. Ask all your questions, write them down so you don’t forget. If something doesn’t sit right with you or you don’t trust the doctor, change doctors. Before you make any decision, make sure you have no lingering doubts. Trust in your doctor is crucial, especially with this disease.
For example, while my uncle and his wife were asking questions, I took notes. Then I’d ask something else. Sometimes, you just freeze. And... don’t compare yourself to others. Just because someone else had a difficult treatment doesn’t mean you will too. Avoid looking up too much online.
I made that mistake this time. I read so much about cancer that my eyes burned. My social media feeds are now filled with cancer-related content. And most of what I read was either incorrect or incomplete. As medicine progresses, such outdated content should be removed.
Only a few friends knew what was happening. Some relatives found out because they called my mom, saying, “Şebnem looks upset; what’s wrong?” After this post, I guess all our relatives will know.
My uncle will get better; I know it. I’m aware this year won’t be easy, but it will end, and we’ll celebrate together. Oncology corridors are unbelievably crowded. I hear so much about people suddenly being diagnosed with this illness.
Other than the cough (which wasn’t persistent), there were no symptoms. This sneaky disease advanced silently. The cough went away after the diagnosis—as if it came just to say, “Go to the doctor.”
I wish I had a magic wand to change everything. But I don’t. My role is to always be by his side. Always.
Now that I’ve shared this with you, I feel relieved. You now know why we’re going to hospitals and why I sometimes have teary eyes here. Knowing you’ll send your good wishes makes me feel better too.
I’ll share updates as much as I can. Of course, I’ll respect my uncle’s privacy and consult with him before posting anything.
I couldn’t express myself very well. And yet, I love explaining through writing. But my emotions are a mess.
I don’t know how to end this piece.
Let me just say this: never forget that health is more important than anything else. This must never leave our minds. When health is at stake, everything else becomes so trivial.
