This post originally appeared on Cancer Owl.
I wrote this after doing just what I described in my comic:
Being in cancer treatment (and having a new ostomy bag) is an odd place. Because if anyone is encouraged to rest and stay dormant, it's a person who's being burned, poisoned, cut up, and given a poop bag over many months. Yet, exercise was highly recommended by my doctors to keep my body strong. So I always lived between "rest up" and "get up".
And getting up early to exercise is something nobody really expected me to do, but I did.
There's this stubborn thing in me that didn't want cancer to win. And by win, I meant my mind. Cancer might kill me, but he wasn't going to rob me of living my my life while I still had breath in my lungs.
And live I did.