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When I was diagnosed with cancer, I was told that my chemotherapy treatments had to be regularly administered and as luck would have it, one of them would fall on my birthday. Still feeling victimized by my diagnosis, I was outraged that my Disney outing plans were to be thwarted.

As I continued to attempt to manipulate the date around, my doctor finally told me in no uncertain terms that if I wished to survive this disease I would have to strictly follow her protocol.  I, however, continued to rant and rave at the unfairness of it all.  One day I became aware of how I was hurting myself and making myself more ill by not surrendering to “what was.”

At that moment I decided to have a “good time anyway,” and indeed that is what I did.  My chemo nurses brought me a specially made cake that day which I allowed myself to consume wholeheartedly, and that night at a party for me, a special friend brought me a painting that I continue to cherish. I think that was the first time I really learned what “surrender” meant.

M.M., Pittsburgh, PA


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