[ WP ] As you gaze into the mirror , you see a different person staring back at you .

October 3rd, 2014. The day I was diagnosed with an aggressive form of stage III leukemia. I was 18. I was lucky that I was at such a good university -- they are very well respected for the cancer research that they do. My team of doctors was able to put me on early human trials for one very promising drug, along with a very aggressive standard treatment regimen. 
 
 I remember all the things the doctors told me as I was preparing for my first day of treatment: `` Be careful what you eat the day before your infusions.'' `` Make sure to get plenty of sleep leading up to your sessions.'' And about the experimental drug, `` If your urine appears green, try to increase your water intake by 50 % and call us if it does n't go away within 8 hours.'' That was the notable stuff anyways. 
 
 Then I got more advice from patients. `` Classical music helps you sleep while you have bouts of nausea.'' `` Instead of watching TV during your treatment sessions, listen to an audio book -- that way you can close your eyes and do n't have to watch all the needles.'' 
 
 But the most memorable piece of advice I got from anyone leading up to treatment came from an unexpected source. Well, it was unexpected when I first heard it anyways. Her name was Jainy, she was a 9-year old girl who also had leukemia. One of the first things she told me was, `` Do n't look in the mirror until after you feel better. It will only make you sad if you see how sick you look.'' 
 
 Jainy's treatment schedule actually synced up very well with mine. We both had treatments on Tuesday afternoons every other week. Soon, I looked forward to seeing her, chatting with her and her parents, and reading to her ( We read the last decade of Pulitzer prize winners together ) while we each received our infusions. Of course, I kept her advice and did n't look in the mirror. 
 
 As I had more and more time with Jainy and her parents, I learned this was n't her first battle with cancer. She first had cancer when she was 5, battled it into remission, but it had come back. That was when she wishes someone told her not to look in mirrors. She would say, `` I did n't look like the person I felt like I was. When I saw myself, I thought I looked so sick and it made me sadder.'' She told me this time around, she felt a lot happier. 
 
 Her parents were so supportive of our little friendship, but it always felt like they wanted to tell me something. After 4 months, they finally got their chance when I had to come late for a treatment. Jainy's mom sent Jainy with her father to the car while she sat me down to talk with me. 
 
 `` Jainy's dying,'' her mom told me. 
 
 I was shocked. It felt like a 10-foot wave had just passed through my chest. I did n't know what to say, so I stood there in silence while her mom thoughtfully picked her next words. 
 
 `` She still comes and gets treatments, even though they make her feel worse. The doctors say she could make it 6 more months if she stays on treatment, or 3 if she were to go off. She knows this and wants to stay on treatment to keep seeing you. She says seeing you makes her happy. She says it helps her get over the chemo symptoms faster.'' 
 
 I was devastated. Here was this bright, young, incredible girl who already had more wisdom and courage than I could ever hope to have. I did n't know what else to say or do, so I told her mom that I wanted to see her outside of the hospital sometime, and asked suggested we all go for ice cream the weekend before our next treatment. I gave her my number, told her that Jainy would be in my thoughts and prayers, and said good-bye. I have never cried like I cried that night. 
 
 Jainy's family and I grew together. We supported each other. We laughed together. Over spring break, we all flew out to Jamaica where we enjoyed the sun, the beach, the music, and some incredible food. We continued the tradition of ice cream on the Sunday before treatments. We added family dinners to that tradition ( every Friday ) and I would read to her whenever I could. 
 
 In May, my treatment and school year had ended. I was cancer-free ( and a sophomore in college! ) Even after surviving cancer and accomplishing all I did my first year of college ( albeit, I took a really easy load after my diagnosis ), I only felt sad. I had to say good-bye to Jainy and her parents. Jainy's prognosis had improved, though, they thought she could make it a full year at this point if she kept her treatment regimen. I knew I would be seeing them all again in September, so that made leaving a lot easier. We exchanged goodbyes, and I promised I would come out and visit over the summer. 
 
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 I had just gotten back from a run when I heard the news. I flew out that night. 
 
 The first thing Jainy asked me when I got to her hospital bed was if I had looked in a mirror yet. I told her no, I had n't, I still did n't feel quite 100 %. She told me I should when I got the chance. 
 
 If I knew that was going to be our last conversation, I would have made sure it ended with a more profound good-bye. 
 
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 I tuck my starched dress shirt into my pressed black pants. As I go to tie my tie, I look in the mirror for the first time in 9 months -- honoring Jainy's last wish. As I gaze into the mirror, I see a different person staring back at me. I am no longer the same cynical person I once was. I see compassion in the way I hold my brow. My demeanor seems peaceful. My eyes radiate empathy, where they once looked at people with apathy. The heaviness of my heart, and the fact that I have n't slept in 2 days are both painfully visible, too. 
 
 Jainy is a part of me now, and it reflects in both my actions toward others and my physical appearance. Every time I see myself now, I see her too. Maybe that's why she wanted me to look in the mirror.
