The Elephant in the Room is Cancer. Tea is the Relief Conversation Provides.

Dear Cancer, It’s Time For You To Go

by Kristen ReillyJuly 2, 2021View more posts from Kristen Reilly

Dear Cancer,

It’s been real, but I think it’s time for you to go. You’ve wreaked havoc on my life for three long years, appearing and disappearing at will. What nerve you have. I have things to do, children to raise, and a life to live. You do not fit into my plan. I can fill pages of a book with things you have robbed me of. Mercilessly you’ve returned three times, attacking my breast, chest, and bones. The left side of my body looks like a connect the dots of radiation tattoos and surgical scars revealing a picture of pain and suffering. I’ve spent three years losing and growing my hair, smiling through the embarrassment and avoiding the beach because I don’t want to be the bald lady frolicking in the surf. I have a half moon scar on the side of my breast, which is permanently swollen, larger than its counterpart. My chest is sunken in where you had to be scooped out by a skillful surgeon who deflated my lung to remove you. I cannot sit back on my legs, do yoga, or stoop down thanks to the radiation required to eradicate you from my femur. Mentally you’ve torn me down, made me feel hopeless, powerless, and weak.

Now I’m here to tell you that you are no longer welcome. I am making my body an inhospitable environment for you. No more sugar, caffeine, dairy, meat, or processed foods that you thrive on. From now on you get nothing but whole grains, vegetables, and legumes to suffocate you and slow your growth. I will no longer allow my life to become unfocused, chaotic, or unbalanced. During each treatment, I visualize the immunotherapy eradicating you from my body as it courses through my bloodstream. Most importantly, every night I talk with God and am assured that this is not my time. Not today, cancer. I am comforted as my hands dance across each rosary bead. I pray for a cancer victim on each one and feel the warm vibration of positivity course through me. Though you have shown me how strong, brave, and loved I really am, I’m ready for you to leave. It’s a lesson that will never need to be relearned. So let me help you pack up your damaged DNA so you can be on your way. You are no longer welcome in this body.

Most Sincerely,

Kristen Reilly

To read this letter and the other letters to cancer, click here to read and download the June 2021 Magazine

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