This is Our Fight Song: A Love Letter to Strength, Survival, and the Gift of Time

Exactly ten years ago, I was in the middle of my own breast cancer journey. At the time, I was a single mother with three-year-old twins—my whole world wrapped up in those two tiny bodies—when I heard the words no one ever wants to hear: You have cancer.

At first, it seemed manageable. A lumpectomy and radiation, they told me. Easy, right? Not….so…. fast….. After surgery, the plan shifted. Suddenly, I was facing chemotherapy, another surgery, radiation, and ultimately a year of my life that would strip away my naïveté and permanently change the way I view time, love, strength and resilience. 

It was not just a medical journey—it was a human one.

The Village I Didn’t Expect

Cancer taught me lessons of epic proportions, especially about family and friendship. Some people I thought would stand firmly by my side quietly stepped away. And others—the unexpected ones—showed up with strength, compassion, and loyalty I could never have predicted. Those who stepped forward are etched into my life and heart forever.  Those who didn’t step up—it stung at first, but in time I realized it was a powerful lesson and one I did not take personally. That hurt became one of the greatest teachers, shaping me in ways that continue to help me today. For some people, cancer is unbearable to talk about—it forces them to confront their own mortality, and that fear can be paralyzing. It takes me back to the scene in St. Elmo’s Fire where the family sits around the dinner table and the word cancer is spoken in a hushed whisper, as if it were a curse.  

The Caregivers

We don’t talk enough about caregivers. Everyone focuses on the patient, but the truth is, caregivers carry a weight that is just as heavy. My family—my fiercest protectors—made survival possible. They carried me when I couldn’t carry myself. They don’t get nearly enough credit. If you know someone caring for a loved one with cancer, please, check in on them. They need as much support as the patient.

The Doctors & Nurses

To the doctors, all doctors, but my amazing team in particular: thank you for your knowledge, your steady hands, and your tireless pursuit of healing. You make decisions every day that balance science and compassion, and in doing so, you give patients like me another chance at life.

To the nurses: Nurses are a special breed, but oncology nurses are a gift beyond measure. You are the quiet heroes who often go unnoticed. You are the ones who held my hand when fear took over, who spoke gently when I needed reassurance, who allowed me my quiet time on those long Saturdays by myself, with my coloring book and my IPad. You didn’t just treat my body—you cared for my spirit. You reminded me that I wasn’t just a diagnosis, I was a person worth fighting for.

Life After “No Evidence of Disease”

There is a phrase survivors know well: NED—No Evidence of Disease. On paper, that’s the best outcome you can hope for. But cancer never really leaves. It lingers in the quiet corners of your mind. It creeps up in the most inopportune moments—a routine doctor’s visit, an unexplained ache, an anniversary date—and suddenly you’re back in that chair, waiting for results, holding your breath. Some call it PTSD. I just call it part of survivorship.

But cancer also gave me something unexpected: a suit of armor.

The Armor and the Perspective

When you face your own mortality head on, you learn quickly what is worth your energy and what isn’t. Petty people and arguments, trivial stressors, wasted time—they no longer hold power. What does matter becomes crystal clear: love, laughter, kindness, presence and most importantly, FAMILY.

Time is the greatest equalizer. It doesn’t matter how much money you have, what your background is, the color of your skin, who you love, or who you pray to. Time waits for no one. And cancer doesn’t discriminate. 

For the Angels and the Fighters Yet to Come

This love letter would not be complete without remembering those we’ve lost along the way—the moms who won’t get to see their children grow up, the friends who fought valiantly not just for themselves but for others, and who now fight from above as angels watching over us. Their courage continues to light our path.

And to those who will face this fight in the future: know that you are not alone. Although this is a club no one chooses to join, it is a club that welcomes with arms wide open. There is room here for everyone to show up as they are, to take what they need, and to give back when and how they can. The strength of this community is immeasurable.

The Soundtrack of Survival

Ten years ago, as I was moving through this journey, a song was released into the world—Rachel Platten’s Fight Song. It became my anthem. I played it on repeat, letting its lyrics propel me forward when my body was tired and my spirit felt heavy. That song gave me strength I didn’t know I had. And now, as it is being re-released, I can’t help but feel the full circle moment—because it reminds me of the resilience I built, the people who carried me, and the truth that we all have more fight in us than we realize.

This Love Letter

So today, this love letter is to the survivors, the fighters, the caregivers, and the angels. Every moment is a gift. Every breath is borrowed time. Let’s use it wisely. Let’s honor it fiercely.

And let’s never forget that in the face of fragility, love and human connection remain the strongest medicines of all.

💗 A Call to Action for Breast Cancer Awareness Month
This October, let’s turn awareness into action. Schedule your mammogram. Remind a friend to schedule theirs. Check in on a caregiver. Wear pink not just as a symbol, but as a promise—to keep fighting for research, support, and early detection.

And when you hear Fight Song again, let it be a reminder: you are not alone, your fight matters, and together, we are stronger than cancer.