From Bump to Battle: The Lump That Started It All

In January 2023, I noticed a lump in my right breast. In that instant, life shifted, ushering me into a chapter I never asked for yet one that called me to walk more closely with God. It became a quiet turning — a place where courage grew in the shadows, where curiosity softened the fear, and where my spirit learned to rest in His presence as I cared for my whole self with deeper intention.

For whom the bell tolls

When my oncologist said, ‘You’ll be dead within a year,’ the words cut through me with a fear I can still feel deep in my soul. For a moment everything went silent. Then, in that silence, something steadier rose — a small, stubborn flame of faith and determination. I didn’t know what the future held, but I knew I would walk it with God, with honesty, with trembling courage, and with a defiance that came from refusing to let someone else’s sentence become my story.

Hair today - gone tomorrow

Losing my hair wasn’t just shedding strands — it was shedding pieces of myself I wasn’t ready to let go of. One day it was on my head, and the next I was shedding like a golden retriever in summer. It was on my pillow, my clothes, my shower floor… even blowing off my head as I walked outside in the wind. It felt confronting, unfair, and far too fast. But in the middle of the shock and the grief, I learned to face the mirror with a mix of fear, disbelief, humour, and stubborn defiance. If cancer thought taking my curls would take my attitude, it seriously underestimated me.

Still Chewing, Still Charming, Still Not Dead

Food became one of the few things I could still control...kind of. In the middle of fear and uncertainty, I found strength in eating simply — the way God made it - whole, real, unprocessed. Eating this way grounded me and nourished both my body and my spirit. Each mouthful reminded me I was still here, still fighting, still honouring my body with the care it deserved.

Money Makes The World Go Round

Money makes the world go round, but trying to stay alive with stage 4 cancer and no income feels like standing still while everything else spins. The bills don’t pause, the rent doesn’t soften, and life keeps demanding receipts even when your body is fighting its hardest. It’s a strange mix of fear and fury — juggling survival, dignity, and the sheer audacity of staying here anyway. Somehow you learn to stretch, scrape, pray, and push forward, because giving up simply isn’t an option.

If I’m Going Out, I’m At Least Making It Fabulous

Only a Type‑A control freak like me could end up organising her own funeral. I was out here choosing photos, writing notes, and planning the playlist like it was my last hurrah. Part of me needed the order, the lists, the structure the control… and part of me was terrified of being forgotten. So yes, I planned my own farewell — not because I was morbid, but because I wanted to leave a little piece of myself behind, wrapped in love, humour, and my signature need to have everything ‘just so.’

Chemo Side Effects: Because Apparently, I Needed More Problems

Chemo didn’t just come with side effects — it brought a whole entourage of comorbidities I never invited. One minute I was dealing with cancer, and the next I had inflammation, bone issues, gut chaos, joint drama, and don’t even ask about the bathroom situation. My body was basically filing complaints in every department. It was exhausting, overwhelming, and honestly… ridiculous. But I still showed up — wobbling, limping, laughing, covered in gosh knows what and holding myself together while everything else tried to fall apart.

Sooky La La Days

Some days are just sooky‑lala days — the kind where the weight of fighting cancer sits on your chest like a grumpy elephant who refuses to move. Days when the brave face slips, the pep talks fall flat, and even getting out of bed feels like climbing Everest in slippers. On those days, it’s not weakness; it’s the human cost of carrying something impossibly heavy for far too long. And sometimes the kindest, strongest thing you can do is simply let the world be a little blurry, breathe, and wait for the light to seep back in. All of us are allowed a sooky lala day.

Trying To Let go And Say Goodbye When I Still Love You Fiercely

When the death toll rings so loud it echoes through your bones, and the end draws nearer with every breath, love becomes both your anchor and your ache. It’s the force that keeps you fighting to stay, even as your presence grows heavier for those who must watch you fade. Saying goodbye to your family and soulmate feels impossible — like trying to fold eternity into a single moment. Yet within that unbearable tenderness lies the truth: love doesn’t end here. It lingers, fierce and luminous, in every heartbeat that remembers you.

Turns Out I’m Harder to Kill Than Expected

I faced the dates they said would end my life, fought with everything I had, and tried to prepare myself — and the people I love — for goodbye. Then NEAD arrived like a shockwave, pulling me back into the world. I’m still here, still living, but forever changed by the closeness of the end I once believed was certain.

Heaven’s Helpers: Supporting Me Every Step (Even the Wobbly Ones)

Through the battle of terminal cancer, God surrounded me with believers who carried me in prayer, spoke life over me, and reminded me that I was never walking alone. Some were friends, some were strangers, and some felt like hidden angels — people God placed in my path at exactly the right moment. Their faith strengthened mine. Their presence became God’s quiet reassurance in every hospital room and every setback, reminding me to keep fighting, to keep hoping, and to keep finding joy even when joy felt far away. They helped me see that God’s light reaches into even the darkest chapters.

Disclaimer

The experiences shared on this website reflect my personal journey only. They are not intended to provide medical advice, make therapeutic claims, or suggest that any approach, treatment, or practice is suitable for others. Nothing here should be interpreted as a replacement for professional medical care, diagnosis, or treatment.

Please seek guidance from qualified healthcare professionals for your own health needs.

Heads‑up: Some photos are real, and some are AI‑generated because, let’s be honest, I didn’t always have a camera handy during the chaos. The AI images are just for storytelling — not medical evidence.

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