Finally made it...

Finally made it…

From failing out of high school, to the hospital bed, to the graduation stage

Wow. What a day. This is something that should have happened back in 2011, 2014, 2016, and 2019. For various reasons, it didn’t happen at any of those times. But today, on this special day, in what has been an absolutely tumultuous 2020, I finally did it. Today, August 18, 2020, I completed my final class to earn my Bachelor’s degree. This is something that I have been dreaming of and working towards for nearly a decade. So many roadblocks have held me back over the course of the last 10 years and it would have been easy to simply let it go and give up on this goal. But, I didn’t. By some miracle from Heaven, I made it. I wanted to take this time to reflect a bit, talk about what this milestone means for me, my future, and maybe your future as well.

It was a warm afternoon in June 2007 when I sat in the Santa Susana High School quad, sitting with my family, waiting to celebrate my cousin’s graduation from high school. I was happy for her, she did it. She was off to bigger and better things. The unfortunate thing, however, is that her and I are the same age. Meaning, I too was a senior and I should have been at my own graduation from Royal High School across town. But no, I was sitting here, being genuinely happy for my cousin, but also secretly dying inside because I knew I had failed. I sat there, mostly ok with the fact that I wasn’t graduating too. But then the time came for the students to walk across the stage, shake the principal’s hand and receive their diploma. I couldn’t hold it anymore. I broke down in tears, absolutely ashamed that I had failed to accomplish the same feat. My mom and aunt tried to comfort me to let me know that it was okay and that I would use that moment as fuel to eventually earn my high school diploma.

They were right. 

By the end of the year, I enrolled at Moorpark College to start my undergrad career. I figured I would take college classes, while working, and taking classes at the adult school to finish out my high school diploma. Obviously, this was a huge undertaking and I quickly realized that I was in over my head. After a couple unsuccessful attempts at college courses, something finally clicked. I took my GED test, passed, and finally had my GED. I was doing okay at Moorpark, not great, but I was passing my classes. And things progressed. By December 2011, I had earned my Associate’s degree and had been accepted to various universities to transfer as a junior for the Fall 2012 semester. I decided on California State University, Northridge due to its proximity mainly. I was still working full time and needed a school that was still close enough for me to live and work in my hometown. I took a few more classes in Spring 2012 at Moorpark, participated in the commencement ceremony, and off I went to Cal State, Northridge.

My original plan was to major in Political Science because it granted me the possibility of attending UC Santa Barbara. But when I was denied acceptance there, and decided on attending CSUN instead, I changed my major from Poly Sci to Art. I had taken up photography some years before and figured I would become a professional photographer (thus, the existence of this website). School started and it was cool. I had been so proud to finally step foot on campus and it was such a shift from just 5 years earlier. From failing out of high school to being a student at a major university. I was on a roll… 

…until October 20, 2012.

On the morning of October 20, 2012, I woke up feeling instantly sick. I was feeling dizzy, disoriented, nauseas, my heart was racing, my chest felt tight, and my head was hurting. Being young and naïve, I dismissed the symptoms and figured they would go away on their own. I was wrong. About an hour later, I made it to the hospital (after a failed attempt at getting seen at a free clinic). After telling the ER receptionist my symptoms, I was rushed in to the ER and immediately sat on a bed while being hooked up to an IV. I didn’t know what was happening but wasn’t terribly worried. They drew blood, administered fluids, asked me questions; I didn’t think anything of it. Finally, I was feeling better and wanted to leave. “I have work tonight”, I told the staff. But they said, not so quick. They needed to run more tests and said I would be there at least a couple of days. Still, I wasn’t worried. Later that night they performed something called a “bone marrow biopsy”. For those who are unfamiliar, I’ll spare you the google search. It is a test meant to detect diseases in the bone marrow. It is done by inserting a long needle into the back of the hip bone, the needle goes past the tissue and taps directly into the bone. The needle then extracts bone marrow and a small piece of the hip bone. Why did they do this? I wasn’t sure at the time and I didn’t really care. I knew it would be negative for whatever they were testing and I would be gone in a couple of days.

I was wrong.

Monday rolled around and I was still feeling okay. While having lunch, my doctor came in to visit me. No results yet, he said. But then in the middle of our conversation, he receives a phone call and steps outside to take it. He came back in and changed my life forever. 

“Bryan, you have leukemia. Blood cancer.”

You ever see those movies where something sudden happens, and the whole movie turns silent and everything moves in slow motion? Yeah, that’s a real thing. I experienced it.

“Cancer? Me? There’s no way”, I thought. But then after that cinematic moment ended, reality suddenly came crashing down. The tears flowed endlessly. Was I going to die? I was only 23. What about my parents? My brothers? My girlfriend? My family? Am I going to die and leave them all behind? I certainly thought so. Before I knew it, my entire room was filled with everyone I knew. My parents, my girlfriend, my brothers, cousins, aunts, uncles, friends. They all came to the rescue. I couldn’t be more thankful for them. Suddenly school didn’t matter anymore. I had to focus on staying alive. 

I’ll spare you the details and cut to the chase. I nearly died within two weeks of being diagnosed. Cancer patients are often fitted with either a “port” or a “picc line”. These two devices are meant to be semi-permanent IV lines that do not have to be changed as often as a regular IV line in the bend of the arm. I opted for the port. It would be implanted, sit under my skin on my chest and I would get stuck with a needle only once a week, versus once a day. Unfortunately for me, the site where the port was implanted became infected a couple days later. The infection worked so quickly that it caused my lungs to start closing up when I was being administered fluids one morning after having a fever the previous night. Thanks to the quick work of doctors and nurses who rushed my room when this was happening, I was saved. And I stayed alive to tell the story. It’s a much more involved story that probably merits its own individual post, but short story quick: I’m alive. 

The next few years were filled with countless visits to the hospital, countless bone marrow biopsies, fear, and levels of nausea that I never knew existed. Eventually I received a bone marrow transplant, which is a risky procedure but is the best-known chance at a long-term remission for blood cancer patients. June 2013, I receive my transplant and I was off on my road to recovery. Things went well. Things were going so well, in fact, that I re-enrolled for the Spring 2014 semester at CSUN. I was ready to get back to school and work. Then, in December 2013, I received the unfortunate news that I had relapsed, the cancer was back. I had to withdraw from school before it even began. More treatment came in 2014 and by the grace of God, I was back in remission by the end of January of 2014. The doctor said that I would be better off staying on maintenance chemotherapy (low doses of daily chemo to keep the cancer at bay). And for nearly 4 years, it worked.

By this time, I had been working an office job. It’s something I never thought I’d be doing. I preferred my pizza delivery job to sitting in an office all day long. But hey, it was time to grow up, right? The job was good, I made friends with my co-workers, and the job set up opportunities that I didn’t have at my previous job. Particularly the opportunity to have my education paid for by the company, so long as it related to business in some way. Who can say no to free education? So, I reapplied to CSUN for the Fall 2017 semester, was accepted, and switched from an Art major to a Marketing major. I could finally go back to school, for free, and have a good job as well. I was on my way. School started and ended so quickly. I passed all of my classes with perhaps the best grades I had ever achieved in my entire academic career. Things were good. 

Until they weren’t. Again.

The week after the Fall 2017 semester ended, I visited my doctor for a regularly scheduled check-up. Yes, the visit ended up being not so routine after all. The doctor informed me that I had relapsed again, my cancer had returned. I was devastated. And scared. The previous times when the cancer had relapsed, it happened while I was no longer on any sort of medications. This time the cancer returned while I was still on chemotherapy. I thought, “this is it. I’m definitely done this time.” I genuinely thought I was going to die before my next birthday. I was transferred to a new hospital to go to an even more specialized doctor. I was very sad at first. I didn’t want to do this again. I wanted to give up.

But I didn’t. 

The proceeding months were some of the worst months of my life. I was admitted to the hospital before I was scheduled to receive treatment. Why? Unfortunately, I noticed the skin on my right leg was very red and itchy. A strange rash developed on my right leg, but strangely not my left. It was several weeks before we figured out what was causing the rash. They did a skin biopsy, where they numbed a part of my upper right leg, and removed some skin to test. To this day, I’m not quite sure what it was. The doctors informed me a blood cell had escaped my bloodstream and made its way to the tissue and skin on my right leg. I may be misquoting it. But it gave them an idea of what to do to take care of it. I was afraid I might lose my leg if it got bad enough because the pain and itchiness was getting to be too much for me. Luckily, they administered some medications and slowly but surely it went away. I was feeling better.

Until I wasn’t, again. 

While the medications helped get rid of the pain and itchiness I felt from the rash, something else developed. I suddenly began experiencing pain in my lower back and hips and it inhibited my ability to walk. Getting up from the bed was now a thirty-minute endeavor to shift my body in a way that minimized the pain from simply getting up. I went nearly two months with this pain that wouldn’t quit, which eventually all but eliminated my ability to walk. My doctor said the pain I was experiencing was likely because of the cancer and because I had not yet received any chemotherapy or treatment. Even though it had been a few months since we had found out I had relapsed. This was because I was in line for a clinical trial and my doctor said we needed to proceed with that treatment plan. I luckily qualified for an experimental treatment that was still in its clinical trial stage. It’s far more complex than my explanation will be but the premise of the treatment involved extracting my own t-cells from my blood, sending them off to a lab where the cells would be reengineered to have a sort of receptor on them which would enable them to specifically target cancer cells in my body. Crazy, right? They harvested the cells from me and a week or two later, they were ready to be re-administered. At the time of re-administering these cells, I was still basically incapable of walking. I’m not sure why or how, but the treatment slowly eliminated the pain I felt in my hips and lower back, soon making it possible for me to walk again. It was such a crazy experience that I never thought would happen. And when it did, I was sure I would never walk again.

But I did. 

After receiving this specialized treatment, I then was finally was able to receive a second bone marrow transplant in June 2018—nearly 5 years to the day from my first bone marrow transplant. I wasn’t expecting much out of the transplant because the first one had failed so quickly. But this one seemed to work and with much less side effects than the first one. And things seemed to be okay finally. I made slow progress but I progressed nonetheless. By the end of 2018, my doctor said that I was in good enough shape to go back to school if I wanted, but not work. I didn’t complain. After experiencing everything that 2018 threw at me, I was chomping at the bit to get back to school. I just wanted to feel normal again. So, I went back to CSUN for the Spring 2019 semester. I took several classes and what do you know? I didn’t do half bad. Summer 2019 came, more classes, more good grades. Then Fall 2019, more classes, more good grades. I was on a roll. And all throughout this year I had regular visits with my doctor, and thankfully, each test came back clean. I was still in remission. By the end of the Fall 2019 semester, I spoke with a graduation advisor and he said I was in line to graduate either in the Summer or Fall of 2020. I said I couldn’t wait any longer. My life was too crazy to be waiting so long to graduate. So, I committed to graduating in the Summer of 2020.

Spring 2020 came. This was perhaps my most difficult semester because I had gone back to work and was taking a full course load with a full-time work schedule. Then the pandemic hit us all and suddenly I was without a job again, but thankfully still had my health. The lack of a job allowed me to refocus on school and I ended up passing all of my classes. Summer 2020 was it. Three classes left and I would be a college graduate. Which brings me to…today, August 18, 2020. Today I completed my final class session for my final class and am now done with all my required coursework. 

I am a college graduate.

Why did I write this? I wrote this because I felt I needed an outlet to illustrate the hurdles that I had to jump over. Or, in some cases, crawl under. I failed out of high school, did poorly in community college, was diagnosed with blood cancer, landed and lost a couple jobs, was in and out of school, nearly died a couple of times; and somehow, some way, I did it. I finished. I am alive and I am a college graduate. I remember thinking about how dumb I felt because I didn’t graduate from high school. If I couldn’t do that, how the hell was I going to graduate from college? “It’s impossible!” I thought.

It’s not.

So, what does this mean for you? It means that you can do it. No matter what is in your way, you are capable. You can do it, whatever “it” means for you.

I glossed over a lot of the details, like how many times I switched doctors and hospitals, how many days of sleep I lost because I was afraid I wouldn’t wake up the next day, and how useless I felt when I couldn’t earn a living for myself. This whole story could easily turn into a novel. I won’t do that to you though, this story has dragged on long enough. With that being said, I have an education that can never be taken from me and I will be able to use it to fuel my self-sufficiency at last.

None of this would have been possible without the unwavering support from the people in my life. My parents, brothers, cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents, and friends. You all gave me so much love, compassion, and strength at every single point of this journey. I could not have done it without you all propping me up, pushing me to keep going when I didn’t want to do it anymore. Thank you to each and every single one of you. My victories are your victories.

To my girlfriend: I don’t even have the words to say or express just how much you mean to me. You have stood by me every single step of the way. You were in the room when I was diagnosed. You slept at the hospital countless nights just to make sure I wasn’t alone. Even going so far as to sleep in a protective gown, rubber gloves and face mask through the night just so you could stay by my side. I don’t know what I would have done without you. Thank you for believing in me, pushing me, and being so patient with me. I love you. Forever. You are the best person I know and I did this for us. It’s time to really start winning. I owe you everything, because without you, I would have nothing. With every bit of love and strength in my mind, heart, body and soul, thank you and I love you.

Lastly, I want to say thank to every single healthcare worker that I have come in contact with over the last 8 years of my life. Every single doctor, every single nurse, psychologist, therapist, technician, chaplain, housekeeper, food runner, transporter; just everyone who is involved in the care of patients at the hospitals I visited, THANK YOU. I would not be alive it wasn’t for your care, compassion, words of advice, and nice conversations I have been lucky to share with each and every one of you. You are so important to me and to everyone you help. I owe my life to you all.

A specific shout out to my primary doctors along the way: Dr. Kass, Dr. Tzachanis, Dr. Ramsingh, Dr. Yaghmour, and the GOAT, Dr. Aldoss.

With that said…in the spirit of the famous words spoken by the man, J. Cole, himself: 

It took me forever. I barely fucking made it, but I fucking made it!

- Bryan

Bachelor of Science, Marketing, Finance Minor, 2020
California State University, Northridge

P.s. A bone marrow transplant is only possible with a donor who is a match for a recipient (like me) in need. Recipients often have to look to national bone marrow registries, such as Be the Match, for potential matches when people in their (the recipient’s) own family are not perfect genetic matches. This means that not one, but two selfless people donated their own cells so that I may have a second and third chance at life. I would not be alive if weren’t for these two caring and selfless individuals.

Please consider registering to become a donor with Be the Match at bethematch.org. This is especially important for minorities because people of similar ethnic backgrounds are more likely to match each other. As it stands minorities have the lowest match rates and that is simply because not enough Hispanic, Asian, Black, Native American, and Mixed ethnic people are not signed up to the registry.

Please, please, consider signing up to become a donor. You, quite literally, have the power and potential to save another human being’s life. Thank you.

P.p.s.

I did an interview about this experience for a CSUN Journalism student’s podcast. You can find the podcast interview at any one of the links below. Thanks fam.

SoundCloud:

https://soundcloud.com/dailysundial/sunspotting-bryan-zamora

 Apple Podcasts:

https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/sunspotting-bryan-zamora/id1478060664?i=1000458029458

Spotify:

https://open.spotify.com/episode/1U82gzZiXYX2OEaE37EPaV?si=zS3R7ohWRzCwGF60lQBzmA