A week later, the day of my new scan arrived. My mum drove me to the hospital, and we both stayed quiet during the ride. We’d already run through every possible scenario a dozen times. This was it—the final piece of the puzzle that would determine whether I’d need more treatment or if I could focus on healing my body as it was.
Liora was with my aunt, who had come to stay for a few days to help out. In the waiting room, I felt like all the walls were closing in. The smell of antiseptic stung my nose, and the machines around me seemed louder than usual. I turned to my mum and said, “I’m not ready for another round of chemo. I don’t know if my body can handle it.”
She squeezed my hand and whispered, “Whatever happens, we’ll get through it together.”
Finally, I was called in. The scan was over in a flash, but the wait for the results felt like an eternity. Dr. Armitage stepped in, holding a folder. His expression was unreadable. I tried to prepare myself for the worst.
“Good news,” he said, and I think my breath caught in my chest. “The lesion appears to be stable, and from what we can tell, it’s benign. We’ll keep monitoring it, but for now, it doesn’t look like cancer has spread.”
I didn’t know whether to cry or laugh. I went with a mix of both—tears streaming down my face, a shaky grin splitting my cheeks. Mum wrapped me in a hug so tight it felt like she was never going to let go. My entire body was trembling, but relief spread through me like a warm blanket on a cold night.
In the weeks that followed, I poured my energy into getting stronger, both for myself and for Liora. My new prosthetic leg was challenging, but each step felt like reclaiming a piece of my life. I woke up early for gentle stretching, which helped with phantom pain. I found that massaging the stump before bed reduced nighttime discomfort, and as I got better at maneuvering, I finally felt confident enough to hold Liora in my arms while standing—something I hadn’t done since before the surgery.
The more I practiced, the more I realized I wasn’t just recovering physically. My spirit felt lighter. That dark cloud of constant anxiety started to lift. Yes, there was still the possibility I’d need further scans and checkups. But that was part of my new reality—living with the knowledge that cancer could always lurk in the background, yet choosing to move forward anyway.
One morning, as I was carefully stepping around the living room with Liora in my arms, she let out the sweetest laugh. She reached up and patted my cheek with her tiny hand, and I realized she didn’t care about my scars or my prosthetic or the fact that I got tired more quickly than before. She just wanted me.
We had a small gathering to celebrate this new chapter—a mini “victory” party, if you will. My mum baked a vanilla cake with bright pink frosting. A few close friends from my childhood came by with flowers and balloons, and even my physical therapist and Saoirse made an appearance. We raised our glasses (of lemonade, mostly) in a quiet toast: to survival, to resilience, and to the simple blessings we often take for granted.
That evening, as I tucked Liora into her crib, I stared at her peaceful face and thought about how far we’d come in just half a year. The nursery walls, once decorated with pictures of pastel elephants and rainbows, now seemed to embody the entire journey. Life had turned me upside down more than once, but I was still here—still standing, literally and figuratively, with my daughter in my arms.
Sometimes, we don’t get to choose the battles we fight. We don’t get to hit pause when things spiral out of control. But we do get to decide how we’ll respond. There were days when I wanted to hide under the covers and cry until I couldn’t breathe. Yet every time I looked at Liora’s face, I found a reason to push on.
If there’s one lesson I hope everyone takes away from this story, it’s that life can turn on a dime. No one is guaranteed an easy road. But even when you lose a piece of yourself—be it a limb, your health, or your peace of mind—you can still find a path forward. Sometimes it’s through the support of family, or a stranger who becomes a friend, or even the unwavering love in your child’s eyes.
Never underestimate the power of determination, and never let your circumstances define you. We’re all more resilient than we realize. Whether you’re facing a health scare, a loss, or any major struggle, know that you have the strength to keep going. You might surprise yourself with what you can overcome.
Thank you for reading my story. If it touched your heart, please share it with someone who could use a bit of hope. And if it made you believe in your own strength a little more, give it a like and spread the word. Life can be unpredictable, but together, we can remind each other there’s always reason to hope—and that love is stronger than any obstacle we face.