Just when I thought I had closed the chapter on cancer, it came back—louder, bolder, and more permanent. I had rung the bell. I had breathed that sigh of relief. I had dared to imagine life after cancer. But Stage IV doesn’t come with a finish line. It doesn’t get a bell. Instead, it’s a new kind of normal, one that demands constant scans, treatments, side effects, and a whole lot of emotional recalibration. It’s living with cancer, not just surviving it.
This part of the journey is harder to explain. It’s not about fighting to be cured—because there isn’t a cure. It’s about managing, enduring, and somehow still living fully. It’s the deep breath before every doctor’s call, the balance between hope and reality, and the grace to give yourself rest without guilt. This stage is not the ending—it’s a complicated continuation. And I’m still here, still learning how to live in this unpredictable space, and still sharing every step—because someone else might need to know they’re not alone in it either.
