Today is my 12th re-birthday. Some people call it a “cancerversary.” Call it what we will … twelve years ago today, I heard I was cancer-free after having gone through six months of intense chemo treatments—every three weeks.

It certainly was no party. Physically and emotionally, I was drained. Exhausted. I lost all my hair. Twenty pounds—didn’t really mind that. Nerve endings in my feet and hands died, otherwise known as neuropathy … often happens with chemo. Those nerves have never, to this day, returned to normal function. Back then, I looked like, well, I looked like a cancer patient. Duh!

But I was nervously hopeful. Happy, at least in the moment. After all, I was still standing. Still breathing. Still above ground, and there to be told I was still there. I was warned, however, that my form of cancer, an agressive type of Lymphoma, was not curable. It was treatable, which is what had been done, and would continue to be done. The chemo was the reason I was in full remission. Yet it, the monster, cancer, would come back, they told me. This was just what happened. It was what it was. Not if. When. I was strongly warned about this. Repeatedly.

Every three months since for the last eleven years, and then four months in the last year, I received either a PET scan—early on after remission and, as my initial remission diagnosis fell farther into the past—a CAT scan. Each time, my nerves frayed a bit just before the test. After all, the nag drilled into my brain over and over rang in my head. As I stay in remission longer and longer, it almost feels as if I’m misbehaving somehow. Silly, isn’t it?

Then, suddenly, fast and hard, God gives me a good ol’ whack upside the head and says, “Linda, STOP that train of thought!” Why? If I’m still in remission it’s because God wants me here on His earth. He’s not finished with me in this stage of living. He has more in store for me just as I am. I’ll stay this way, as-is, until He deems otherwise. So … THERE, Linda, and all those dear learned doctors, too!

It’s fitting that here I sit today at my computer thinking about this. Tomorrow, the day after my 12th cancerversary, is yet another treatment day. I will be up again bright and early, toddling off to the IV room of the Cancer Care Center in Montgomery, Alabama, where I’ll spend three+ hours with my girlfriend Ivee the IV, and my buddy Benny Drill, and my intravenous drink of choice for this past month, Rituxan. Has it been the Rituxan that’s kept the big, bad monster away these last twelve years? Maybe, maybe not. It hasn’t hurt. The doctors and nurses here are spectacular and I credit them, along with their belief in the Almighty, for keeping me on my current path. I’ve a monthly treatment plan and an every-six-month treatment plan. I will continue with this as long as they, and the Good Lord, feel it is worthwhile.

For what it’s worth, I believe faith is what’s brought me this far, and faith is what will keep me going for as long as the good Lord chooses for me to do so. We operate on His schedule. My belief is rock solid and I remain ready for whatever He has in store for me. Not a single moment of my life to date, cancer included, has been wasted or regretted, and I plan to never regret a single moment into my future, no matter what it may bring. My message to all is to wake each morning with a loud, happy, “Thank You, God!,” on our lips. Being happy and grateful is so much more enjoyable than growling at the coming day. Enjoy your lives and be grateful, my friends.