By Anonymous
In December 2024, I defended my Ph.D in ecology. I know this is not something people often say, but I genuinely loved how my thesis turned out, and I loved my defense even more. I was on fire. I left that room feeling proud, energized, ready for the next chapter.
Four months later, I was in a hospital bed, unable to move from the pain searing through my entire body, being told I have terminal lung cancer.
This post is not about the long journey from pain to treatment, to less pain, to walking again, to reclaiming pieces of a “normal” life while I wait for the worst. It is about something else… Something quieter, but just as profound: how losing the privilege of thinking in terms of decades changed the way I live, and more specifically, the way I do science.
Now, everything in my life, including my role as a research scientist, is filtered through a new kind of clarity. A paper rejection? Not that big of a deal. Giving a talk? No longer terrifying. Saying no to exhausting networking events that drain rather than energize me? Surprisingly easy.
I understand now, more than ever, that if work is going to be part of the rest of my life, then it has to be something I truly love. For me, that is coming into the lab with a burning question and getting lost in conversations with colleagues as we chase down answers. It is spending hours translating theory into code and back again. It is writing and rewriting a single paragraph until it finally says what I need it to say, and then rereading it the next morning and realizing it is total garbage 🙂 It is collaborating with people I love. It’s teaching what I know and learning what I do not. It is doing science not just for the sake of doing it, but to leave something behind. A trace. A memory. A legacy.
Research is no longer a stepping stone to that dream position I used to picture. For me, now, research is the dream. It is not the means… it is the end.
About the author: Though the author has chosen to remain anonymous, they share this story as a gentle reminder that being alive and well is a privilege and we should never take it for granted. May it nudge the readers to seek what gives their days meaning and to find the quiet joy in doing what truly matters, not only in academia, but in every corner of life. And if you or someone you love is going through something similar, please know that you are not alone. As long as we are breathing and our hearts keep beating, there is hope
Thank you for sharing this extremely inspiring positive outlook on the most challenging thing each one of us will have to face in life