Lex,

I have no easy answer for you as there is none. I wish I could help you. All I can do is share my story.

The first person to die of cancer in my family was my dad. I was ten-years-old. I wasn't too scared of cancer at that age, but I was afraid that I too, would die. I was petrified to go to sleep at night for fear I would not wake up in the morning. I believe now in retrospect it was the beginning of my anxiety/PTSD.

It wasn't until one year later that my grandmother died of blood cancer (which is what I have now). One by one I lost my aunts and uncles within three years. All to cancer. All on my father's side.

By the time I was fifteen, cancer was my monster that lived under my bed or in the closet when the lights went out. I lived my life in fear of it, convinced I would get it and die. Convinced I'd never make it to twenty. Then thirty. Forty.

My mom was recently treated for breast cancer and had a mastectomy of her left breast. Also, she has battled lung cancer and had her left lung removed and a quarter of her right lung removed.

My two brothers died within five years of each other.

Death surrounds me too, but somehow, some way life goes on. Maybe not as we would like. Maybe not on a steady path, but on it goes.

Peace,

Petunia