What it’s like to have cancer in college

In her freshman year at Yale, Isabella Giovannini was diagnosed with cancer.

Just as she began the spring semester, doctors told her she had a tumour in her chest the size of a cantaloupe – and at the age of 20, she would have to have chemotherapy.

Now in her sophomore year at Saybrook, we spoke to Isabella about withdrawing from Yale for a semester, battling cancer, and how doing comedy helped her make a comeback.

How did you find out you had cancer?
It actually started in high school. I got all of these weird symptoms my junior year, and it was mostly itchy skin, like on my feet. I would be up late at night scratching. It got so bad that I started to draw blood because of how itchy it was.

So I went to a dermatologist, and they told me I probably had eczema or some other skin thing, and so I tried to moisturize, but nothing helped. I ended up going to seven skin doctors, and no one had any idea what was going on. All I could do was moisturize and it turns out moisturizing doesn’t cure cancer.

Then other things started happening. Waking up in the morning, or lying down for long periods of time, my face would be super puffy, especially under my eyes. I just looked terrible, and I had no idea what was going on. I also started to get all these veins that you weren’t able to see before, but they suddenly became really prominent on my stomach, and a little bit on my chest.

Finally I went to a family friend who is a dermatologist in D.C. No one said “cancer” – it was not discussed, it was not presented as a possibility. She told me we would do an MRI to see if anything was obstructing blood flow or fluid flow in my body.

It was on January 31st of last year and I remember the day so vividly. I was here at Yale. I had had so many tests at that point I wasn’t expecting anything to come up. But I went to the Yale Medical School, got my MRI, and went about my day.

That night, I got a conference call from the doctor and my parents. They told me that it was a type of lymphoma. They said, “You have a massive tumor in your chest. It’s the size of a cantaloupe. We don’t know what type of lymphoma yet, but it is definitely cancer.”

Wow. That must have been extremely difficult. What did you do?
I remember getting the call as I was getting ready for my final round interview to be a Yale campus tour guide. I didn’t really have time to process it. There were about fifteen minutes of going around in circles, like “What? What does that mean? Do I need chemo? Do I need radiation?”

I hung up the phone. I remember doing the interview in a haze. Then I left the interview, and I didn’t have time to get back to my dorm, so I went to the girl’s bathroom in Saybrook and just broke down.

Later that night, I remember sitting on the floor of my room. Then I Googled – which is, like, the dumbest thing to do – I Googled, “non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma” and I saw the numbers and just flipped out. That was probably the worst night of my life.

How did you friends and family react?
My parents were great. I didn’t see them for a week after my diagnosis, so they were probably a wreck during that time. And I’m an only child, so they were probably even more of a wreck.

My friends were amazing, too. My suitemates were the first people I told. They were in the common room when I was on the phone before my interview, and they could tell something was wrong.

I remember they came in my room later that night and offered to shave their heads with me. It was so sweet, but I was like, “that is the dumbest thing ever”. We don’t want to be the suite of bald girls.

What was your treatment like?
I tried to stay in school at first. I said, “I’m definitely not leaving”. And then I got my first round of chemo on a Thursday. I recovered over the weekend and then came back up to school. I think I attended one class, and I was like, “I can’t be on chemo and be in school”. Why would you want to be miserable and be in school? And why be in college hating waking up to go to class, not going out to see people, not having fun? Better to just go home.

Chemo was once every two weeks for eight sessions, so sixteen weeks total. I withdrew [from Yale] officially the first week of March, and I was done with chemo by the first couple weeks of May. I had a month off, and then I had radiation everyday in July, and I was back in school in August.

What were the side effects of the treatment?
Hair loss. Obviously, that’s the big one. That was the one I was most upset about. That’s really hard. It just sucks, there’s no way around that. I think I asked my doctor ten times when I first met with him, “Will I lose my hair? Will I lose my hair?” and he kept saying, “Yes.” I think I was hoping he’d respond with something different.

There are so many things that happen on chemo. I was really, really tired. And for me, towards the end, I would get really bad anticipatory nausea. So the night before I would get chemo, I would get so sick. It was completely psychological, I knew I was going to feel really nauseous so I already felt really nauseous.

You also get really bad acne on chemo, which nobody told me. That sounds like the dumbest thing to complain about when so much else is happening. But, because so much else is happening, you’re like, “Why do I have to also have huge, hideous acne on my face right now?”

I know you’re involved in comedy. You perform with The Viola Question, an improv group on campus. How has it played a role in your recovery?
I didn’t do any comedy before Yale. I was not funny. My family is also really not funny. I guess funny people usually come from funny families? My family is seriously the most unfunny family in that we’re functional, but not even funnily dysfunctional. And my parents are nerds, and I’m a nerd, so dinner would be all about architecture or art. It’s just really not funny at all.

I never thought of myself as funny before Yale, but I knew I wanted to be in an improv group, so I took a class the summer before freshman year, and then I ended up in The VQ! It was everything to me. The VQ, they’re just my best friends in the whole world. They were the first people I told after my suitemates. And everyone was just so supportive.

That’s amazing. Were you able to keep in touch while you getting treatment?
People stayed in really close touch. I was only gone half a semester, and I didn’t feel like I missed anything. One of my best friends, Nate, actually came and stayed with me for a few days for Easter.

Is there anything you wish people knew or understood about cancer?
The thing I always found really funny was at the time, whenever I said, “I have cancer,” everyone’s first response is, “I’m so sorry.” They apologize to you! As if it were in any way their fault. It’s such a weird instinct, and everyone has it.

They say, “I’m so sorry,” and then the second thing they say is, “my mother, my sister, my cousin, my aunt, my grandmother”, whoever it is. Everyone has a story. It’s totally relatable, and you find out things about people which probably wouldn’t come up otherwise.

Looking ahead, what do you see for yourself in the future?
There was a point when I was like, “I’m going to be a cancer doctor! This is great, you get to save lives!” And my doctor really was great – although he was a Republican, which I found out during chemo session seven, and I was like, “Oh no! But I liked you so much!” No, I’m just kidding. He’s amazing.

So I thought, for like five seconds, that I would be a cancer doctor. But then I looked up the pre-med requirements and saw Physics, and I was like, “Fuck no.” And I was definitely not taking Chemistry.

I’ve always wanted to write, since I was really tiny. The dream – well, it changes every five seconds – but I think I’d love to write comedy, and maybe one day write a part for myself and have some creative control. But who knows? It’s a wacky world. I could end up being a lawyer. No, I would never be a lawyer. I’d be the worst lawyer.

Do you feel like your battle with cancer is still a big part of your life?
It actually feels very far away. The only time I think about it is when I have to wear my hair in this ponytail. I haven’t had the heart to cut it into a shape, so now it’s just exactly the way it has grown out, and it looks terrible when it’s down. Whenever I take out my ponytail I remember, “Oh, right. That’s why it looks so bad.”

Unfortunately I will probably get cancer again, but I’m not really afraid of it. What sucks is that the radiation I got was to my chest, and it really raises your risk of breast cancer in the future. And since I’m young and there is breast cancer in my family, I’ll probably get it in a couple decades.

It is what it is, but I’m at peace with it. Just waiting to get cancer again! I have so much Seinfeld to watch. It’ll be fine.

Do you have a favorite cancer joke?
I love all cancer jokes. They’re all amazing. I remember one time when I was getting chemo they gave me something to deal with my anticipatory nausea, and I got so high. I was holding this yellow bucket they give you in case you throw up, and I remember putting the bucket on my head and both of my parents were there, and I was like, “It’s a hat! It’s a hat!”

It was absurd. My parents were just staring at me realizing, “Our daughter is just so high right now.” There were lots of wonderful, wonderful moments like that.

I realized it had affected my whole end of high school experience. I was not operating at full capacity. And now I just feel great. It’s like, wow, all those years I would get so tired and want to go home and sleep, and now I’m like, oh, that’s why!

Overall, though, I got so lucky. If you’re going to have cancer, this is the best way possible.