Being 23 sucks. The difference between 23 and even 22 means that I was alone when I had my first surgery and found out I had cancer, alone when I had surgery to put in a port, alone sitting in a chair getting pumped full of poison for 5 hours every other Friday, and alone when I'm sick for the days following.
A year ago, I would have been able to leave college early and go home and have my parents take care of me. Now I am financially responsible for myself and have to keep working 9-5 even though I have a disease that could very well kill me with 8 months of treatment that make me sicker than I have ever been before.
I also am forced to make adult decisions not because the time has come, but because the disease forces them on me. Like what path of treatment to follow: the one with the higher cure rate but the much higher later cancer rate, or the one with the lower cure rater but also lower risk for secondary cancers. Or the fact that I have to buy a car long before I can afford it because even walking to the 3rd story of my building (where I live) makes me out of breath and dizzy, so walking to do anything that used to be a breeze now is impossible.
Yeah, being an adult kind of sucks.