The Give and Take of Cancer

I was diagnosed with breast cancer at the age of 39 – a time in my life when everything finally felt steady. Life had a rhythm, a sense of peace I had worked so hard to build. I had a stable job I genuinely enjoyed, daily routines that grounded me, and a grown, independent daughter who had become her own beautiful person. For once, things felt aligned – not perfect, but balanced. Safe.

And yet, life has a way of turning even the most stable ground into quicksand. One moment, you’re living your everyday normal. The next, a single phone call, a single word – cancer – crumples everything beneath your feet. I can still remember how the world blurred in that moment. And just like that, I was no longer who I thought I was.

Looking back now – almost two weeks post-radiation – it feels like I stepped out of my life and into someone else’s. So many days feel like a fog. Weeks blurred into months, marked only by appointments, scans, tests, results… waiting rooms became my second home. And in all that waiting, I left pieces of myself behind – time, emotions, energy – all spent on the unknowable.

And still, somehow, amidst the fear, the grief, and the loss of control, I found something I never expected: connections, strength, and hope.

My team at MSK became more than just medical professionals – they became my greatest supporters who walked with me through this journey on the daily basis. Each nurse, each doctor, each technician – I owe them more than I could ever say.

I also discovered new layers in the people around me. Some I had known for years, yet never really seen until now. Others were almost strangers who showed up with open hearts, reminding me that kindness can come from the most unexpected places. Friendships deepened in the silence of hospital waiting rooms, in text messages that simply said, “I’m here”.

But the most sacred part of this journey has been the bond with my daughter. We walked this path together. She stood by me in ways I’ll never forget – strong when I couldn’t be, soft when I needed comfort, and present in every way that mattered. This experience became part of our story, a chapter written in pain, yes – but also in deep, enduring love.

And while cancer has taken a lot from me – pieces I’ll never fully get back – it also gave me clarity. I’ve learned to let go of the idea that I have to do everything alone. For most of my life, I carried everything – responsibilities, emotions, burdens – on my own shoulders. But cancer taught me that it’s okay to lean. It’s okay to say, “I need help.” It’s okay not to be okay.

Every day now feels like a gift. I see beauty in things I used to rush past. A quiet morning. A shared laugh. A moment of peace in my own body. I’ve learned that even in the hardest, most painful days, there can still be light. There can still be hope.

Because the truth is – life is unpredictable. None of us know what tomorrow holds. And if cancer has taught me anything, it’s this – we must live as fully as we can, while we can. We must find joy in the ordinary, gratitude in the everyday, and grace in ourselves – even when we feel broken.

If I could get one thing back, it would be the version of me who didn’t yet know this pain – who still believed illness was something that happened to other people. But even she, with all her innocence, never knew the strength I now carry.

This journey has reshaped me. I’m softer in some ways, stronger in others. I’ve lost – but I’ve also gained. And in this strange, heartbreaking, beautiful balance, I’m still here. Still standing. Still healing. And still learning how to live.