Radiation sessions for this crazy party are officially complete. I like to think they made an example out of this group—showing the others that we’re not putting up with any nonsense.

In case you missed: I think of every lesion and tumor as a party. The party in my hip got a bit out of hand and needed the authorities to come in and get it back under control.

The rad tech asked me if I was excited to be done. I told her, “I don’t get excited anymore because there’s always something else.” That’s the reality—this is my life now. And honestly, I’m glad she doesn’t understand that. Hopefully, she never will.

As I walked out of the dressing room, rocking the ever-fashionable patterned house dress, I noticed a woman sitting there. She had clearly been through chemo and was finishing her radiation. But what struck me most was the fear on her face.

Being me, I sat down and asked, “What are you in for?”

“Breast cancer,” she said. Stage 2.

She told me how it feels like it will never end, how she’s starting meds next week, and how heavy the fear sits on her. I could feel it radiating off her—stress, anxiety, uncertainty. And I remembered exactly what that felt like in the beginning. When everything is new. Unknown. Terrifying.

I listened. I empathized. And I tried, in whatever small way, to reassure her. Maybe my outlook helped her feel just a little less alone in that moment.

Later, as I got into my car, I noticed her still sitting in hers. I walked over, gave her my number, and told her if she ever needs someone to vent to, I’m here.

I feel so deeply for the newer cancer people. It’s such a frightening start—you can’t help but think your life is over, that death is waiting just around the corner. But with time, with knowledge, with experience… the fear softens. The unknown becomes manageable. And slowly, you start to breathe again. But it never goes away…ever.

Yes, this is my reality: the parties keep coming. But I’ve learned how to walk in, take a seat, and own the damn room—even when the authorities have to step in.