Perfect Health Is Who I Am: The Emotional Weight of Annual Cancer Follow-Ups

The MRI, the Memories, and the Mantra: Life as a Cancer Survivor

Today is my annual MRI.
It’s been 20 years since my cancer diagnosis, but this day never gets easier.

There’s something about returning to the same hospital year after year. The same parking garage. The same hallways. Sometimes even the same scent in the air. It stirs something deep—a kind of quiet dread mixed with gratitude and vulnerability.

Because even after all this time, my body remembers.

The Unseen Toll of Survivorship

We often talk about surviving cancer as if it’s a finish line. But for many of us, survivorship is a lifelong journey—one marked by tests, scans, and that familiar anxiety that bubbles up around them.

It’s not just the scan.
It’s the waiting.
It’s the what-if.

Even if I feel healthy, even if everything seems fine, this day brings it all back:
The uncertainty.
The powerlessness.
The fear I worked so hard to overcome.

My Morning Ritual

Every morning, before my feet even touch the floor, I give myself a few sacred seconds of alignment.

I close my eyes and envision a beam of light pouring down from the sky, surrounding my entire body.
I simply stand there, wrapped in that light, and say:

“Perfect health is who I am.”

It only takes a moment. But it shifts everything.
It’s not just a mantra—it’s a way of anchoring myself in truth and peace before the world begins to pull me in a hundred directions.

Especially on days like today.

Because fear may knock at the door—but I get to decide who I am.

Holding Both: Strength and Tenderness

Cancer changed my life, but it didn’t take my spirit.
Still, days like today remind me that healing is not linear, and that being strong doesn’t mean I don’t feel.

So if you're reading this and you know what it's like to face the annual scan, the bloodwork, the follow-up calls—I see you.
You are not alone.
You are brave for showing up, year after year, heart open and feet steady, even when it’s hard.

No matter the result, I choose to live in alignment with that truth.
And I carry you with me—all of you walking the same road, quietly, courageously, year after year.