8,000th

When I was 22, I buried my 72-year old dad. My older siblings were abroad and I had to take care of all the details—getting the death certificate, choosing the urn, and arranging the funeral, cremation and interment of the urn in a cemetery plot that my father himself owned. When I was 47, I buried my 48-year old husband. It was a replay of what I had done for my father, except I had to get a crypt in a columbarium for the inurnment. When I was 53, I buried my 90-year old mother. It was a replay of what I did for my husband, except that due to COVID pandemic protocols at the time, we could not even see my mom, nor accompany her to the crematorium.

Today, I mark my 8,000th day as a breast cancer survivor. I was first diagnosed at Stage 3C with 22 of 24 lymph nodes positive for malignancy. After going through a mastectomy, six cycles of chemotherapy and 28 days of radiotherapy, my cancer was found to have spread to my lymph nodes and bones. I underwent another six cycles of chemotherapy, which by God’s grace controlled the disease. I am forever grateful to all those who donated to my treatment fund---more than a hundred benefactors (relatives, friends, friends of friends, classmates, workmates and even acquaintances)---I would not have survived without their generosity. I do pray for them daily.

Seventeen years later, with my husband gone, I was diagnosed again with cancer on the other breast. I had another mastectomy and because it was Stage Zero, no further treatment was recommended.

I recall the loved ones I have buried on this 8,000^th day of life after my first diagnosis because I marvel at God’s mercy and graciousness toward me. I have lost two breasts, my husband, my mother, and my father—but I live…every so often in deep grief, but more frequently with immense gratitude for the blessing of each new day.

I feel no guilt when I eat chocolate cake or turtle pie, gulp down a homemade chocolate ice cream float or triple chocolate gelato, enjoy churros with thick, hot chocolate, or even a nice tub of taho with lots of syrup and sago. I relish my favorite treats knowing these can all go away in an instant. If I die, at least I shall have tasted heaven on earth. If I get an illness which will require me to give up my sweet joys, at least I shall have known such gustatory pleasures.

I don’t know what tomorrow will bring. But recognizing each day as a miracle makes me utterly grateful for still being alive, bad grass that I am. I have practically forgotten my birthday, but I have always greeted each morning with “Thank You, Lord, for this new day.” I thank the Lord for the 8,000 chances He has given me---totally undeserved. I have received graces and blessings beyond what I could even begin to imagine. Almighty God has indeed shown me so much mercy and unconditional love.

My hope is in the Lord. May His will be done in my life. The Lord gives, the Lord takes away. Blessed be the Name of the Lord.