I have been on both sides of cancer. The one side was watching colon cancer cruelly and remorselessly take away one of the humans I loved most in this world, my mom. It’s the side when you ignore the doctors that told you she had a year to live. The side where you avidly search all avenues to find a way to save them. Plead with them not to give up. Remind them that miracles happen. Insist that they don’t leave you. And you sit at their bedside every day, so they know they’re never alone. The side where you see them losing the battle, losing themselves to the disease. And all you can do is cry silently; hidden from them, because in front of them you smile. You try to have this flawless facade to mask the torment and anguish in your heart. The side where you finally get to the point where you beg God to take them to stop their suffering, and ask Him to hold them forever in His arms, so they feel the eternal love you have for them in Heaven. And so your guilt, for having asked them to hold on longer than they should have, doesn’t consume you forever.

Then I have been on the other side. The side when you sit alone in the doctor’s office because they won’t tell you anything on the phone, and so you drive there through tears because you know it can’t be good. The side where they tell you that you have breast cancer at 35. And you sit there in disbelief. Wondering what the point of being a good person was?! Contemplating angrily why you never smoked or did drugs and barely drank. Why you bothered to eat healthy and exercise!? What was the point?

The side, when they tell you it’s aggressive and Stage 4 and dictate all the surgeries and treatments you’ll need. The side where you hear nothing they’re telling you. And all you can think about is that you have a 4 year old and a 2 year old at home that you love more than life itself, and wonder if you’ll be there to watch them grow up and see the things that your own mom has missed in your life.

It’s the side that barely gives you a chance to recover from your surgery because they have to start treatments. The side where you’re doing scans and tests and anxiously waiting to find out if it’s spread. The side where you make promises and pray to God and Saints and your mom.

The side where you don’t want your husband or friends at any of the treatments because you’re protecting them from the nightmares you still have from watching your mom go through it. But you can’t do it alone, so you bring your angel on earth, your sister and she’s by your side every single, difficult step of the way. And you try to be optimistic, but you saw what cancer can do.

It’s the side where the nurses tell you that you have beautiful hair because they think it’ll come back the same, but it doesn’t. The kind where you let a hairdresser shave it off because you think it’ll be easier, but it isn’t.

It’s the side where you get poked in the arm over and over and over again. And you sit there some days all day long and feel the poison coldly run through your veins.

The side where you come home and smile for your children, so they know what normal should look like and pretend everything is fine. And you muster energy to play with them. And when you just start to feel better, you have to go back again for another round. The side where you have pills upon pills to take before and after treatments.

But you’re not done because it’s the side where now they put tattoos on you to make sure you are perfectly aligned for radiation. And they sit you down again and tell you all the possible side effects. And you go for 30 sessions. Endure the rash and blistering and the permanent skin discoloration. The side where you think that’s gotta be it, but it’s not. Now you have to do a maintenance chemo for a year and take more pills.

It’s the side where you look at yourself in the mirror and don’t recognize who’s in front of you because you’ve been scarred on every level. But when you force yourself to look again, you see that YOU ARE ONE OF THE SURVIVORS. And you carry all your scars as a witness that you endured and won the fight. You are on the side that has a chance to make someone else’s fight easier, better, preventable or even a cancer of the past.

This is why my team runs every year. Because we are on the side that says, “F*@# you cancer!”. The side that has gone through a dark time, but because of it are reminded to live fully while God blesses us with life. We are on the side that believes we can make a difference. And that’s why I keep asking for donations.

On Sunday October 6, please Help to Be the Light in the Darkness by joining our team, OR by donating anything you can to help me achieve my fundraising goal. Every dollar makes a difference.

Together, Anything Is Possible for it's In Struggles that We Unite, Grow and Learn.