Fly Away

Cancer-free on October 15, 2025

a raven with black bill and dancing wings fly across the early morning sky--joyful and happy. The desert rushes below him in a kalidescope of color

One health chain at a time breaks, leaving me as weak as a day-old kitten— learning to walk again, learning to eat again, even learning to dream again. The cancer chain holding me to treatments, and doctors, and the recliner that contours around my body is gone, leaving me learning how to live again.

My whole social world has been centered around treatment and sleep, worried that if I catch another cold or virus that I would end up in a hospital bed, watching the world scream around me as I try to do the most basic things.

I’m learning to eat and speak with a scarred tongue and a dry mouth. I’m learning to walk without a walker. I’m learning that I must supplement the minerals I’ve lost so that I don’t become dizzy and fall again. The last time almost ended me.

I’m thawing and cautiously stepping into the light. Whatever persona I had before is shattered. The pieces lost.

I’m silent.

There is no redemption here. Just the quiet truth that I’m cancer-free.