I Detest You: A Young Mother’s Open Letter to Cancer

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Dear Cancer,

I detest you. I detest everything you’ve inflicted upon me, stripping away my hope and leaving me breathless with fear. You approached without warning, launching an attack when I least expected it. Your actions didn’t just leave me trembling; they cast a shadow of fear over my loved ones, who suffered in the wake of your assault.

I wish for your demise. I long for you to decay and disappear—never to cast your ominous shadow again. No one will mourn your absence. Not a single soul. You are universally despised; we all yearn for your obliteration. It’s not just my family and friends who wish for your end; everyone who has ever encountered you carries a deep-seated hatred towards you.

You instill fear. There was a time I hesitated to even utter your name, convinced that would summon you. Yet, that proved futile—you came for me regardless. You took an innocent life hostage, relentlessly trying to extinguish it. The most chilling part is the uncertainty; you could return at any moment, stealthy and swift, to finish what you started. My control over this battle is minimal, and despite my efforts to prepare, it might not suffice to defeat you.

Countless individuals dedicate their lives to discovering ways to eradicate you, to eliminate your existence from this planet. Many have succumbed to you, having fought longer and harder than I ever have. Thankfully, there are those who have triumphed over you, thanks to the relentless efforts of those committed to seeing you vanish.

You forced me to envision a world devoid of my presence—a world where my daughters would lack a mother to comfort them, to kiss away their tears, and reassure them that everything would be alright. A world where my husband would lie in bed alone, yearning for me. Even worse, you made me imagine a reality where I would be replaced—another woman hugging my daughters, teaching them about makeup, shopping for prom dresses, dancing with my husband at our daughters’ weddings.

Should you triumph, life would continue without me. My children would smile again, and I pray my husband would find love once more. But my deepest hope is that you will simply vanish.

I continue to pray for your absence in my life. Yet, just as I start to feel a sense of normalcy, when I think of the scars you’ve left only occasionally, you slink back into my thoughts. You attack relentlessly, without remorse or regret. Even if you are (hopefully) gone from me, you’ve left a permanent imprint that has altered who I am.

My hatred for you runs so deep that I have made sacrifices, hoping that the pain and tears would be enough to keep you at bay. I endured self-inflicted suffering. There were days when merely walking to the bathroom felt like an insurmountable task. I often lay in bed, contemplating whether to continue fighting or surrender. You robbed me of six precious months, and even now, you continue to take from me—bit by bit.

It has been two years since I received the diagnosis of breast cancer, over 700 days since I endured excruciating procedures that involved removing pieces of my flesh. I underwent surgery to remove my breast, had lymph nodes extracted, and had a port placed in my chest to administer chemotherapy directly into my bloodstream. I was drugged, poisoned, cut open, and stitched back together.

My hair fell out, my vitality diminished, yet I continued to smile. I laughed, loved, and lived in the midst of the torture. I entered a state of battle readiness, but it was only after my final chemotherapy session that I finally let my guard down, screaming and kicking in fear. For months, I wore a mask, convincing everyone I was okay. Only those closest to me, those most affected, witnessed the reality of my struggle.

Today, I strive to live as if that chapter never happened. On the surface, everything appears unchanged, and many have forgotten the battle I fought. My daughters still have their mother, my parents still have their daughter, and my husband still has his wife. Yet, I now cherish little moments more deeply.

I wept when my oldest daughter got her ears pierced just before her 5th birthday, uncertain if I would witness that milestone. I felt overwhelming joy at her kindergarten graduation because I was there to celebrate it. I prioritize spending time with them, and I’ve developed a greater sense of kindness and compassion. I hug them tighter, longer, and express my love more frequently.

So, while I harbor immense hatred for you, Cancer, I must also express gratitude. Your unwelcome presence has awakened me to the fleeting nature of life, highlighting the importance of focusing on the good and letting go of the bad. It’s crucial to be kind, patient, and compassionate, regardless of circumstances.

No one lasts forever, and we never know when our time will end. One day, we will all become mere memories. I just hope that the memories of me are filled with joy and that you play no part in them.

Summary

In an emotional letter, a young mother expresses her profound hatred for cancer, which has drastically altered her life. She reflects on the fear and uncertainty cancer brought, the sacrifices she made, and the toll it took on her family. Despite the pain, she also recognizes the silver linings that have emerged from her battle, such as a deeper appreciation for life and the importance of love and kindness. The letter serves as a powerful reminder of resilience in the face of adversity.