When I was going through treatment, people would tell “you are so strong and brave!” Although I was complimented by their comment, at the same time I thought, “What do you expect me to do? Sit back and let the cancer take over? Leave my kids here while I head off to another world without them? Leave my husband to raise them?” This was a scene that was too familiar to me (my mom died of cancer when I was two), and the idea of repeating history was something that we wanted to stop in its tracks. The definition of strength has come to me gradually: the ability to handle all of life’s traumas—the little and the big—and to make it to the other side with a smile.
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