Of all the things I could have chosen to do with my life, I chose one that would let me live many lives— I chose to be a screenwriter.
I wrote about people who were scared to die, people who wanted to die, people who wanted to never die, and all of whom were eventually going to die; but some, sooner than others. Two stories had people with cancer —one survives, and one dies. Probably because it takes an awfully long time to kill people in 120-page screenplays — and to convince a crew of 100 people that someone deserves to die, and that they might even be happier if they were dead — I started writing two-paragraph stories on Instagram. Out of the 39 stories I wrote, seven had people dying of chronic illnesses.
On December 15, I received an e-mail from the histopathology lab at KIMS Hospital Trivandrum, which said that I have Classic Hodgkin Lymphoma — neatly rounding off my stories to 40, and sick people to eight.
I had been living a healthy life — almost to the point of being a hypochondriac. I hit the gym for 150 days in the last ten months. I hit my protein goals of 2.1g per kilogram bodyweight religiously, and at one point, deconstructed a shawarma from my favorite outlet to understand exactly how much chicken I’m getting from it.
I had no symptoms of cancer and the diagnosis came out of nowhere.
It was a freak accident involving either one mosquito or two, and my doctor grandmother — with whom I now share my oncologist. There was very little time to get used to it. But maybe, that was a good thing. A shock was exactly what I needed.
I looked at my wife — 29 is far too young to be widowed. I told her she should remarry if the time comes.
And now, everything needs to change.
I should probably care a little less about microplastics in the ocean. I should stop worrying about Taiwan Semiconductors on a daily basis. I should stop worrying about AI taking over my job and maybe start hoping it takes over biotech and comes up with a vaccine for cancer.
I’ve been told my inherent rage isn’t good for my cells— apparently it causes cytokine storms that slow down healing. I need to reign in my anger. Or find a creative outlet.
I should stop scrolling on my phone. I should stop counting likes on social media. It doesn’t matter how much or how many people like me. Or should I ride this sympathy wave? I should read a lot more. I should get out of my analysis paralysis and pick a movie to watch. Any movie. Even a bad one. I should stop watching bad movies to feel better about myself.
Hodgkin Lymphoma has a great prognosis with 90 percent cure rate, and fortunately mine was caught early. Fate, it seems, has been kinder to me than I was to the characters I created. Sometimes, I walk into the chemo ward and I’m hit with a sense of deep imposter syndrome. I look around and my co-patients are either 6-year-olds running around without a clue about what’s happening, or 70-year olds who can’t take a step forward without exhausting themselves.
And here I am — a 32-year-old with a fairly well-preserved body that can tolerate the toxins. Only two doses in, hair still intact, diagnosed with what is, statistically speaking, the easiest cancer one could get.
Who am I to hijack their grief?
To balance things out, I take out the negative visualization exercise out of my stoic repertoire and imagine the cancer returning, more severe. I should learn to be grateful.
Now, I need to reorient my life. I need to reclassify my friends and reassess my goals. I need to figure out how far I can dream and where I should draw the line. We don’t want to be too ambitious and tempt the gods. We don’t want to be too cautious and miss out on this unique opportunity to rethink and restart life.
I need to teach myself it’s okay to take a nap. Time is limited, but not that limited. I need to show vulnerability without turning this into a sob story. I need to fix my psychotic need to fix everyone’s problems. I need to fix myself first.
I need to rewrite this article. I want to write this over and over again until I perfect it.
I should live a perfect life.
Or not.
I could just write many perfect lives.
Goutham Soorya is a screenwriter and director whose debut feature film Sleeplessly Yours was an official selection at the 23rd International Film Festival of Kerala. He has written and directed web series for Karikku, as well as advertisements, documentaries, and music videos.
Published – January 12, 2026 04:29 pm IST