Prashanta Khanal

समाजमा कसैको शव उठाउन र अन्तिम संस्कारमा सहभागी हुन पनि 'जात' को लेखाजोखा हुन्छ। जुन समाजमा मान्छेको पीडा, शोक र अन्तिम बिदाइमा समेत जात, धर्म र वर्गको तराजु प्रयोग गरिन्छ, त्यहाँ सामाजिक चेतना मरेको घोषणा गर्दा कुनै फरक पर्दैन।।

It has been deeply overwhelming to receive so many messages of love, healing, and hope over the last few days. Reading the stories of fellow Brain Tumor and Cancer survivors, as well as those currently in the thick of their own battles, has brought me a sense of belonging I didn’t know I needed. From a single post, I found my community. I am so grateful I gathered the courage to share my story publicly. ✨✨ Back in 2022, I was diagnosed with 2nd stage Optic Nerve Glioma (a form of brain tumor) at B&C Hospital. When we consulted top hospitals in Kathmandu , the majority labeled it a "malignant cancer" and advised against treatment, giving us little to no hope of survival. But my family and I refused to give up. The tumor was 19mm on my optic nerve. We traveled to Medanta Hospital in Gurgaon, India, where we learned the tumor was benign, yet inoperable due to high life-threatening risks and the certainty of permanent blindness. The recommended path was radiation therapy. I went through 40 fractions of radiation, an extraordinarily heavy toll on the body. There were days I felt like giving up, constantly haunted by the question, "Why me?" My life was turned completely upside down. Beyond the physical toll, the financial burden was staggering. My parents poured their lifelong savings into my care, and our family had to arrange millions in a matter of weeks. Watching the emotional heartbreak and stress my parents endured broke me. In the middle of all that darkness, I realized I had no choice except to be stubbornly, unapologetically brave. Today, I am gradually recovering, and by God's grace, my tumor has shrunk from 19mm down to 13mm. My desire to live & thrive is far greater than any tumor could ever be. Looking back, in a strange way, I am almost thankful for this journey. It taught me what it truly means to be alive. It taught me resilience. It taught me to treat everyone with unconditional love and kindness, because you never know what hidden battles someone is fighting, or when their time with us might come to an end. But it also opened my eyes to a harsh reality. That is OUR HEALTH CARE system is deeply broken, unequal & inaccessible. I recognize the relative privilege I had. My parents were both working professionals, and we had some property to draw from. But what about those who don't? If someone from a low-income family faces this exact disease, they are often left with no option at all than to die. Furthermore, the lifelong post-radiation maintenance and health care costs remain painfully high for anyone to sustain alone. At the same time, it revealed how deeply our society misunderstands illness, often treating a medical condition as a sign of permanent inability. I remember relatives, neighbors & friends grieving not over my health or recovery, but over whether I would ever marry or what would become of my life. The noise of societal judgment is often heavier than the illness itself. As i look toward the future, I sincerely hope our leadership prioritize accessible physical and mental healthcare for every citizen. No family should ever have to choose between financial ruin and the life of their loved one. A state cannot thrive when its people are left to die under the weight of illness and medical debt. We must fight for a Nepal where healthcare is a fundamental right, not a death sentence. To everyone who reached out: thank you for reminding me that none of us are walking this path alone. Standing in power with all the cancer warriors. I love you all 🤍✨❤️🙏