Phoebe grew up dancing for countless hours at her local dance studio, a place she called her second home. Anyone watching could see how passionate she was about movement and expressing her emotions through graceful choreography. It was in this same studio, one day in mid-March 2017, while teaching the next generation of dancers, that she became acutely aware of her persistent exhaustion and the alarming speed with which her appetite had decreased over the last two days. After a blood test and a very urgent call from her doctor to go to the hospital immediately, Phoebe was taken in an ambulance to be diagnosed with the rare Philadelphia chromosome-positive acute myeloid leukemia. Say no to plagiarism. Get a tailor-made essay on "Why violent video games should not be banned"? Get an original essay Early in my dancing career, I admired Phoebe for her willingness to accept the physical and mental challenge of participating in multiple dances solos each competitive season. . I remember watching her cry from frustration and muscle pain in the middle of her daily four-hour rehearsal sessions, wondering how she could still get up and make her movements so fluid, the pain masked by her simplicity and his unfailing grace. Eventually, growing up, I had the honor of being trained by her, my dance inspiration. She ultimately became my inspiration beyond dance. Seeing her balance between teaching, being on a college dance team, commuting, and taking care of her family, she became a strong figure in my life. It was crushing to see the tough Phoebe I knew crumble under the malignant, abnormal growth of white blood cells that is leukemia. The leukemia Phoebe was diagnosed with was a special case. In the history of cancer, the study of the chronic version of this leukemia has discovered that unique and specific mutations exist in distinct forms of cancer. The discovery and basis of the leukemia from which she suffered, as stated by Siddhartha Mukherjee in his novel The Emperor of All Diseases, was due to a "genetic event called translocation – the reverse transposition of two pieces of chromosome" ( 2011, p. 366). This caused the blood cells in Phoebe's bone marrow to multiply uncontrollably, disrupting her blood count. So, it was decided that the hospital should find her a bone marrow donor and in the meantime, she would have to undergo intravenous chemotherapy to destroy her leukemia cells and keep them within limits. Phoebe outwardly accepted her diagnosis and treatment with the grace and strength with which she had always presented herself. Her fearlessness throughout her journey allowed me at times to think mindlessly and happily and discuss with her the adventures we would have when she left City of Hope Hospital, when her leukemia was in remission. However, Phoebe's leukemia journey was not an upward linear progression, as my naivety allowed me to hope and believe. Her journey of living with illness consisted of high jumps with hard landings, falling off spins when we thought she was going to stick the landing, and sashays that had her traveling back and forth from the limits of health to the depths of illness. The first round of chemotherapy made her nauseous and her legs and hands swelled after hours in bed, as she was unable to walk around withoutfeel the need to vomit. There were times when Phoebe would refuse visits from my family due to her throbbing headaches resulting from the lack of oxygen caused by the treatment. The chemotherapy affected the ability of his bone marrow to produce a sufficient supply of blood cells; therefore, as Mukherjee reveals in leukemia patients, his “red blood cell count was so low that his blood was unable to carry all of its oxygen supply” (2011, p. 18). The second round of chemotherapy caused her beautiful, long, black hair to fall out, which was also due to chemotherapy which targets leukemia cells but interferes with other fast-growing cells like those in hair. When I saw her, I couldn't help but feel my heart sink as I remembered that just a few weeks ago we were discussing how her long, perfectly curly hair was her favorite feature and that she planned to dye them blonde again. But Phoebe didn't seem devastated by the loss of her hair. She exclaimed that she was going to shave it off to get a new look. I could see that Phoebe had gotten used to ignoring the things that no longer mattered as much, focusing on the more essential things that mattered to her, just like she did as a science teacher. Neurologist Oliver Sacks did this when he was diagnosed with ocular melanoma, which he reveals in his article "My Own Life" when he says: "[he felt] a sudden, clear focus and perspective . There was no time for anything inessential” (2015). There was no doubt that Phoebe was struggling to figure out what was important to her and how to plan her life around the illness that had brought her life to a very abrupt halt. She began to rebuild her life by calling her university. It was decided that she would return to her studies in a year, when, hopefully, the malignant growth of cells in her blood would be successfully stopped. There was a darker side to Phoebe's experience of illness. Phoebe struggled, just as Paul Kalanithi explained in his novel When Breath Becomes Air, she “struggled, in the face of [her] own death, to rebuild [her] old life – or perhaps find a new one.” (2016, p. 139). Realizing that she would not be able to give in to the physical demands of dancing as her body fought to stay alive, she informed her university's dance team that she would no longer be on the team. Even more heartbreaking, she asked the principal to inform her students, those she had been training since they were little, that she would no longer teach them. With these decisions, Phoebe was often faced with the same questions Kalanithi pondered: “Who will I be, in the future, and for how long?” …Who could I be, or should I be? (2016, p. 147). After weeks of turmoil while stuck in the hospital, Phoebe accepted the idea of ​​eventually finding a job where she would be allowed to work from home, which her doctor promised would allow her to return more long only a few weeks after his blood. The blood count reached a normal amount after the third cycle of chemotherapy. Towards the end of summer 2017, her blood counts finally reached normal standards and a relieved Phoebe returned home, only returning to City of Hope for routine checkups to make sure. the leukemia cells were not spreading. Phoebe planned a small gathering to celebrate with her dearest friends and family members. I vividly remember Phoebe dressed in black, wearing a hospital surgical mask to avoid contracting infections and having to control the