By: Suesan Cota, 42

In December 2022, my husband (then boyfriend), Dil and I were told that after his intensive chemotherapy to treat his aggressive Acute Myeloid Leukemia (AML), the chances of us having children were highly unlikely. This devastating revelation was delivered in the basement office of the radiologist that was going to be administering rounds of radiology to Dil preceding his bone marrow transplant.

Dil’s diagnosis had come six months earlier, and bad news that I could have never imagined previously, kept coming.

My memory of feeling gutted and shocked as tears slid down my face is so clear. The memories of the six months that followed where Dil became so sick from transplant, blessedly, have started to fade. I love my brain for knowing that I have no desire to clearly remember my fear or heartache during that time.

Being a caregiver for the past three and a half years has changed my perspective on almost everything. I wake up grateful every day that Dil is next to me. Before I met him, I wasn’t even sure I wanted to get married. Then, I fell in love with him within weeks of knowing him. Cancer tried to steal that from us. Sometimes when my mind is wandering, the thought that I could have missed out on a life with him takes my breath away. I find myself frozen, having to recalibrate and remind myself that he’s here, we’re married, we’re moving forward- slowly sometimes-, but nonetheless, still moving.

This past autumn of 2025, my gynecologist told me I had a perfectly round cyst in my left ovary.

The cyst was large, 10 cm roughly measured and found during a routine scan. With caution in mind, she recommended that I get an MRI just to be sure. The doctor assured me, she didn’t think I should be alarmed, the cyst could have been there since birth. I took the ultrasound photo home and posted it on the fridge. When the MRI came back indicating there were tumors in the cyst, I felt foolish for not dreading the worst.

I was told I needed surgery and was going to be operated on in the city.

They advised that I have my left ovary and my fallopian tubes removed since “family planning and fertility weren’t a concern.” Almost three years to the day, when Dil and I were told we weren’t going to be parents, the news solidified again.

I had surgery in January 2026, the cyst was even larger than they had anticipated, 14 cm. The surgeon was able to remove the cyst and tumors without incident. I felt empty afterwards. I had to be careful with my body, no lifting for weeks, careful exercise. Due to Dil’s cancer recovery side effects, I had taken on my role as the muscle in the house. Every time I finished
working in the yard or carrying something heavy to the basement, I was delighted in asking Dil “what is it like to have an absolute unit of wife?” He always humors me.

Currently, my lifting is on pause until I fully heal, I’m trying to wait patiently. With everything that has happened in the past three and half years, I’ve learned nothing stays the same. Both good and bad, circumstances are always changing.

Some amazing things have happened: we got married, bought a house, got another cat. Some not so great things have also happened. I don’t know that I would have believed I was capable of this kind of resilience previously. But each day, we get up and just keep moving, one day at a time. And for that, I am filled with gratitude.