53 Times — And I’m Still Here: A Journey of Strength, Survival, and Renewal

Fifty-three. At first, it sounds like “just a number,” but every one of those numbers carries a weight that only my body and soul can fully comprehend. If someone had told me I would sit in that chair fifty-three times, I might have been paralyzed by fear, frozen in the face of the unknown. But here’s the thing: you never truly know your strength until being strong is the only option left.

The path I’ve walked wasn’t a straight line, nor was it easy. Some days I wore a smile, hiding the pain behind it, while on others, tears flowed freely because the exhaustion threatened to swallow me whole, overshadowing even my deepest faith.

The sterile walls of the hospital became my second home. The beeping monitors and the cold, harsh light of fluorescent bulbs became the backdrop to my life. But in that space, I found something I never expected. The nurses — they became family. Every drip from the IV, every wire attached to me, felt like a battle being fought in silence.

But fight I did. I fought for myself. I fought for the people I love. And I fought with a relentless will to live. I survived, not because I was immune to the pain or the fear, but because I refused to let either define me.

And today? Today is not just a photo. It is my cry of freedom, my declaration that I made it. 53 rounds of chemo. Done. Finished. Cancer no longer lives here.

But the battle is never really over. The main fight has been won, yes, but now begins the rebuilding. Slowly. Gently. With patience.

And as I step forward into this new chapter, I ask you: keep sending your prayers, your light, your good energy. Every “amen,” every positive thought reaches me like a healing embrace, lifting me as I continue this journey.

Thank you. Thank you for never letting go of my hand.

Life begins again, right now. And I’m here for it.