Dear Leukemia

Dear Cancer,

If I could ask you one question, it would be a single word: why?
Why did you storm into my life four years ago? Do you even know the darkness you brought? The way you made my heart tremble, my body ache, my mind scream for peace. I thought swallowing pills, tearing out my PICC line, might quiet the storm inside me—but still, I survived.

Even now, months away from being called “cured,” I remember. You hurt me. You stripped me of strength, of innocence, of comfort. You carved scars into my flesh and etched shadows into my mind.

I can still feel that cold hospital room—the wires, the IVs, the endless hum of machines. I remember lying there, powerless, eyes glued shut, while the world outside raced in panic: codes, alarms, children rolled out in black body bags. You took moments of my life I can never reclaim.

And yet…

Through the ashes of your cruelty, I rose. You forced me to see what truly matters. I’ve learned to cherish life in ways I never could before. I’ve been accepted to schools I once only dreamed of, returned to the Corps I love, and poured myself into helping others just as the world helped me. I’ve learned to love again—my heart, my body, my existence.

You made me face fear, despair, and hopelessness. But in facing you, I found courage, resilience, and grace. I am stronger, braver, more alive because of what I endured.

So, even though I can never forgive you, Cancer, I thank you. For through the darkness, you showed me the light. Through the pain, you revealed my strength. Through the battle, I found myself.

And for that, I am truly free.