“I had never, ever, in my deepest of life’s depression, considered suicide. My very first chemo dose in 2017, the steroids hit me so bad, I was refusing to go back. I was able to look my (at the time) four year old right in the eye and think she was better off without me. I’d never been in that spot before, or even remotely considered it, and it was educational. I went back and immediately talked about how it felt and we cut the steroids. Everything after that. . . . was kind of bearable. I learned to accept how I cope with things, that showing off and feeling awful are ok, and so long as I get up the next day, I might as well do it again. What else am I doing, anyway?”
"I don’t like the term 'fighter' or 'war' or 'she lost her battle'. I have cancer. It is part of me. To say it’s a war implies I am at war with myself. And I am not.Cancer is like a passenger in a car. Sometimes it sits quietly in the back, sometimes it back seat drives, sometimes it the passenger, and sometimes it’s the driver. No matter what, I feel like I’m driving on flat tires, but at least I’m moving forward.
Cancer might kill me some day- But NOT TODAY!”