Dear Cancer,
I despise you. I despise everything you’ve inflicted upon me: the despair, the breathlessness, and the heart-stopping fear that grips me. You launched an unprovoked assault, targeting me when I was blissfully unaware of your existence. You didn’t just shake my world; you rattled the lives of my loved ones, dragging them into your cruel game.
I wish for your demise. I long for you to wither away and vanish without a trace—never to haunt anyone again. No one will mourn your absence. Not a single person. You are universally loathed; we all yearn for your end. This longing isn’t just mine; it’s shared by everyone who has fought you or witnessed your devastation.
You terrify us. In the past, I avoided mentioning your name, fearing you would sense my acknowledgment. But that didn’t stop you from coming for me. You took an innocent victim, attempting to extinguish my life. The most terrifying part is that you still might. At any moment, you could silently creep back in and attempt to finish what you started. My power over this battle is minimal, and despite my efforts to armor myself, it may not be enough to conquer you.
Many have dedicated their lives to discovering ways to eliminate you, striving to eradicate your presence from this world. Countless individuals have lost their lives to you, fighting longer and harder than I ever did. Yet, there are also those who have triumphed over you, thanks to the relentless efforts of researchers and caregivers.
You forced me to envision a future without me—a reality where my daughters would grow up without a mother to comfort them, to kiss their scrapes, or to reassure them that everything will be alright. You made me picture my husband lying alone in bed, missing me, and worse—another woman stepping into my shoes, hugging my girls, teaching them about life’s milestones, and dancing with my husband at our daughters’ weddings.
If you succeed, life will go on without me. My children will learn to smile again, and I hope my husband would eventually find love anew. But my deepest hope is that you simply vanish.
I continue to pray for your absence. Yet, it feels as though every time I begin to find my footing, every time I start to forget about the scars you’ve left, you creep back into my thoughts. Your relentless attacks leave no room for respite—unfeeling and unrepentant. Even if you’re gone (fingers crossed), your impact remains, forever altering who I am.
I have gone to such lengths to keep you at bay, even going so far as to cut parts of myself away, believing that the pain and sacrifice would be enough to deter your return. I poisoned my body with toxic treatments, bedridden and struggling to move just a few feet to the bathroom. There were moments when I questioned whether I could continue fighting or if I should simply surrender. You robbed me of precious months, and even now, you take bits of my life away, second by second.
It has been two years since I learned of my breast cancer diagnosis—over 700 days since I endured the agony of procedures that stripped away pieces of me. I lost a breast, had lymph nodes removed, and endured chemotherapy through a port in my chest, allowing poison to circulate through my veins. My hair fell out, my energy waned, yet I still smiled, laughed, and loved through the suffering. I donned a brave face during the battle, only to crumble in fear once my last treatment concluded.
Today, I go about life as if nothing happened, but the truth is, I am more aware than ever. My daughters still have their mother, my parents still have their daughter, and my husband still has his wife. Yet, the little moments now carry more weight.
I cried when my eldest daughter got her ears pierced just before her fifth birthday, unsure if I’d be there to witness it. I felt immense joy when she graduated kindergarten because I was present for it. I cherish time with them more deeply now and feel a surge of compassion that I didn’t fully appreciate before. I hug tighter, linger longer, and express my love more frequently.
So, while I despise you, Cancer, I also owe you a strange sort of gratitude. Your unwelcome intrusion has taught me the preciousness of life and the importance of kindness. Life is fleeting, and we never know how much time we have left. In the end, we’ll all be memories, and I can only hope that mine remain good ones—without you in them.