Dear Cancer,

In March 2013 you came crashing into our world with complete disregard for the fact that it was a world barely standing. It was a world that had come crashing down around us only 9 months earlier when it was shattered by grief over losing dad. It didn’t matter to you that we were barely learning how to breathe again after that loss. Mom’s heart was broken and every day was a fight and then you went and started attacking her from the inside out. Your timing was cruel. Things we now know as “symptoms” were things we thought were normal parts of the grieving process. And then came the pain; the excruciating, incapacitating pain. You forced us to relive the horrors of the night dad died when we took mom to the ER for the first time. And then, a few hours later…you made yourself known. The scans showed a mass that could be indicative of ovarian cancer. CANCER. We heard that all too familiar sound of a world falling to pieces again. In those early days and weeks I remember fearing even saying your name. If I had to say it, it was never louder than a whisper. You were the elephant in the room until the diagnosis was confirmed. Stage IV Cancer. You were out for blood, you had plans of claiming another life. We were told our best chance was to build a team of people that have dedicated their lives to learning your sneaky ways so that they can find a way to obliterate you. We found our people. We formed our team. Our UCI heroes didn’t wear capes…they wore white coats. And from the beginning the goal was clear: for you to lose. We fought against insurmountable odds and you threw one curve ball and complication after the other. All along the phrase that was used constantly amongst our team was to be “cautiously optimistic” and we were. I think that angered you. You see, I think one of the biggest tricks you have up your sleeve is the lies you try to tell. You want people to believe that they are alone…both our medical team and our supportive relational team made sure we were never alone. You want people to believe their situation is hopeless…our team made sure we stayed hopeful, even if it was cautiously. And you try and convince people that you’re a death sentence…but you couldn’t change this one fact: mom wanted to live. She was choosing life for as long as there was breath in her lungs. Not even you can compete with that. Between our faith, her resolve, and our team, you really never stood a chance. In December 2013 we received the news that mom was CANCER FREE! She was free! Free of you! You had no place in our world anymore and we began to rebuild a twice shattered world. In May 2014 you snuck back in. We heard the word ‘recurrence’ and our hearts were crushed with dissapointment. But, remember that team we built? Without hesitation they got back into position and put another plan in motion. Your lies tried to creep up on us, but everything was different now. Mom was a survivor this time; a champion. A warrior that wasn’t afraid to go up against you, because she knew what winning was…and winning was the only option. That incredible team of ours put her on a clinical study. You know what that means? Every single day there are people working constantly to find new ways to beat you. And mom was committed to being a part of that. You know what else? It worked. In October 2014 the words CANCER FREE were spoken again. We have no guarantee that you won’t weasel your way back into our lives, in any one of our bodies. We celebrate the wins that we have had but only for a moment before we remember all those whose lives you claim each day. You show no bias; you sneak your way into the bodies of kids, women, men, young, old etc. Every day people hear your name for the first time and every day you make worlds crash down. And the real reason behind this letter is to tell you this: the days of your wins are numbered. I believe and have faith that in my lifetime you truly will be obliterated. You have claimed and broken too many lives. You will not continue to win. The lies you tell are simply that…lies. We know what our truth is. Our truth is that we are strong. We are brave. We are courageous. We are the ones who fight against you and all odds.

As a writer, it’s not a habit of mine to spoil the ending, but just so you know and can be sure….we win. You lose.

Sincerely,
A daughter who is tired of hearing your name,
Leslie Danielle