Today, cancer doesn't get the microphone.

And honestly...

This feels pretty good.

Cancer-Free

These days it seems like everything is something-free.

Dairy-free.

Gluten-free.

Sugar-free.

Fat-free.

Caffeine-free.

Flavor-free...

(Seriously, who keeps buying that stuff?)

So today, I decided this post is going to be...

Cancer-free.

Now, before anyone starts sending emails...

Yes, I still have cancer.

No, it didn't magically disappear overnight.

And no, this isn't me trying to deny reality.

It's simply me deciding—for one blog post—cancer doesn't get to be the main character.

Enough About Cancer Already

I'm guessing a few of you are probably thinking...

"Elizabeth...you haven't even started chemotherapy yet, and somehow we've already managed to talk about cancer quite a bit."

Fair enough.

So today...

Let's not.

Instead, let's talk about what this whole experience has quietly reminded me of.

Importance and Gratitude

I've realized that importance and gratitude aren't exactly the same thing.

One is about what matters.

The other is about recognizing that it matters.

The funny thing is...

The older I get, the more those two seem to hold hands.

Cancer didn't teach me what's important.

It simply turned up the volume.

My List

My list probably isn't as long as it once would have been.

And that's okay.

I'd rather have a short list that's real than a long list that sounds impressive.

So, in no particular order...

A healthy body that has carried me through sixty ears and is still willing to fight for me.

A job that fills my heart more days than it empties it, allowing me to make a difference in a community I love.

The Columbia Gorge—both sides of the river—where I've built friendships, memories, and a life I'm incredibly proud of.

My husband, Yani.

Need I say more?

He's my calm in every storm, my sounding board, my favorite travel partner, and the guy who still laughs at my jokes...or at least pretends to.

Then there's Aries.

My sweet bug.

Who has absolutely no idea what's going on.

She just knows I'm home a little more often.

And that's enough for her.

Then there's...

The stray cat.

Who, despite repeated discussions that he does not, in fact, live here...

Apparently disagrees.

At some point we crossed the line between "feeding a stray" and "having another pet."

I'm still pretending that line doesn't exist.

Note: We found him a great home!

The Things You Can't Buy

I've also become incredibly thankful for family.

Not because we're perfect.

Lord knows we're not.

Families are messy.

Complicated.

Beautiful.

And worth fighting for.

I'm thankful for the friends who show up without being asked.

For the people who simply sit with you instead of trying to fix you.

For laughter that catches you completely off guard.

And for the wisdom that has finally taught me something I wish I'd learned years ago...

Boundaries are healthy.

Not every relationship deserves unlimited access to your peace.

Not every disagreement needs your participation.

Sometimes loving yourself means quietly walking away from the people and situations that no longer serve your heart.

That isn't giving up.

That's growing up.

Turns Out...Life Is Pretty Good

Funny how a diagnosis can sharpen your focus.

Not on what you're losing...

But on what you already have.

And when I stop long enough to really look around...

I'd say I've been given an awfully beautiful life.

Today's Blessing Cake

What was mine?

Remembering that cancer isn't the most interesting thing about me.

Not even close.

What did I learn?

The things that matter most have never been things at all.

They're people.

Purpose.

Peace.

And one very determined stray cat.

What's yours?

Take a minute today to think about what's on your list.

It doesn't have to be long.

It just has to be true.

Until Next Time...

Life is too short to spend every conversation talking about cancer.

Today, I chose gratitude.

Tomorrow...

I'll choose it again.

Keep looking for your Blessing Cake.

I know I will.

In the Spirit of Health & Wellness,

— Elizabeth