What Does Strength Look Like When No One’s Watching?

03/29/2025

Medical Update

This past week was dedicated to rest following chemotherapy and the immunity-boosting shots. My main focus was simply giving my body the time and space it needed to recover and rebuild. There was a lot of resting, more than I probably would have chosen for myself but it felt necessary. At times, the stillness was frustrating, but I kept reminding myself that this is part of the process. Healing takes work, even when that work looks like doing nothing.

The Nivestym shots seem to be doing their job. I’m hopeful that my immune system is slowly bouncing back, one quiet day at a time. I did experience some minor stomach discomfort this week. It was nothing too alarming, and most likely a side effect of spending so many hours sitting in the same position, first for work, then again while resting afterward. The stillness adds up.

To help with that, I’ve decided to move to a different work location in the house next week. A small change, but I’m hoping it brings some relief, both physically and mentally. A fresh view and a new angle might help ease the tension in my body and break up the monotony of these long days indoors.

Looking ahead, I have another round of bloodwork and labs coming up. These tests will show whether the shots and the rest have done their part. I’m keeping my fingers crossed for stronger counts and signs that my immune system is holding steady. Waiting for lab results always brings a mix of hope and anxiety, but it also gives me a clearer picture of how my body is responding to everything it’s been through.

Chemotherapy resumes on Wednesday. Mentally, I’m preparing to step back into the rhythm. That includes all the little routines I’ve picked up along the way: staying hydrated, packing good snacks, dressing in layers, and doing what I can to bring comfort into a space that isn’t always comfortable. It’s strange how something so intense can become so familiar in a short time.

I’m grateful for the quiet this past week offered. Rest can feel passive, but I know it is active work too. I’m heading into the new week with hope for strength, steady progress, and maybe even a little ease along the way.

Strength of a Stranger

Last week, during my chemo session, I noticed a woman across the room. I never caught her name, and we never exchanged words, but her presence has stayed with me every day since.

She was already seated when I arrived, settled into her chair with the kind of ease that only comes from familiarity. I went through my own treatment, which lasted around four hours, and when I left, she was still there. Still sitting quietly. Still holding space for herself in that chair. It was as though she belonged to the rhythm of that room, like the beeping machines and the gentle shuffle of nurses’ footsteps.

Physically, it was clear that the chemo had taken a toll on her. Her body looked tired, worn in the way that cancer treatments often leave their mark. But her spirit, somehow, felt untouched by the weight of it all. That contrast struck me deeply. While her body showed the signs of battle, her energy told another story entirely. She laughed during her conversations with the nurses and other patients. Not forced laughter, but real, bright laughter that bubbled up and softened the edges of the room. Her smile lit up her whole face and, honestly, filled the space around her. She made eye contact with people. She nodded at those walking by. She looked alive in a place that so often feels heavy and clinical. In her quiet way, she made the room feel more human.

What moved me most was how effortless it all seemed. She wasn’t performing strength. She wasn’t trying to be brave. She was just being herself in the middle of something incredibly hard. She was enduring. She was present. She was offering something light and gentle in a place where pain often dominates.

We tend to think of strength as something loud or visible. We imagine big, dramatic moments of power and perseverance. But what I saw that day was a different kind of strength. It was steady. It was soft. It was patient. It looked like showing up again and again, even when your body feels like it’s barely hanging on. It looked like making space for joy in the middle of exhaustion. It looked like choosing to smile, to laugh, and to connect, when it would be so easy to retreat inward.

She reminded me that real strength often lives in the unseen. It happens in the small moments. In the quiet presence of someone who keeps coming back. In the way a person carries themselves even when no one is clapping, no one is cheering, and no one is asking them to be strong.

That kind of strength is not loud, but it is lasting.

She inspired me without saying a word directly to me. Just by being there, by existing with grace and grit, she left an imprint. I do not know her story. I may never see her again. But I saw her. And what I saw, I carry with me now.

This journey has taught me many things already. But watching her reminded me of something I needed to feel in my bones: strength does not have to roar. Sometimes, it is enough just to sit with what is hard, to still smile when it hurts, and to return to the chair, again and again.

That is the kind of strength I want to grow into. The kind that does not need to prove itself. The kind that simply is.

Follow-ups

This week, my thoughts have been with several dear friends, especially Dave and Kim. I hope you both find healing and rest in the coming weeks. Your strength and resilience are truly inspiring.

I'm also deeply grateful to the many friends who have checked in on me during this week: Bill, Tim, Tobin, Collen, Richard, Alex, Rick, Gregg, and so many others. Your unwavering support and kindness have been a beacon of light, reminding me of the incredible power of friendship. Your friendship is a treasure I hold close to my heart. Thank you for being in my life.​

In moments like these, I'm reminded of the profound impact that simple acts of kindness and words of encouragement can have. Whether it's a thoughtful message, a shared memory, or just the knowledge that someone is thinking of you, these gestures provide immense comfort and strength. I'm lucky to call all y’all friends, thank you for always being there when I need someone to lean on. Cue Golden Girls’ theme.​

I started reading “Caste” by Isabel Wilkerson, and listening to “The Fisherman” by John Langan. Both are good for different reasons. Give them a try and share your reads with me, unless it is the “Great Gatsby” - I agree with my Librarian friend Amy, the book is overated and too much attention is paid to it.

Spring is showing off this week, go outside and take a moment to enjoy it! The trees are bursting into bloom, and it's the perfect time to soak in all that natural beauty. Normally, I’d be out and about exploring my favorite spots to catch the Dogwoods, Bradford Pears, and Cherry Blossoms in full bloom, but this year I’m not able to get out like I usually would. So if you're out for a walk or a drive, snap a few photos for me, I'd really appreciate seeing what you're seeing. It’s a small thing, but it means a lot.

Thank you all for being such an integral part of my life. Your support means more to me than words can express.