“When writing your own story of your life, don’t let anyone else hold the pen.” – Jack Kerouac

Epic tales always have an obstacle to overcome. A dragon to slay. A damsel to save. A storm to weather. A villain to defeat. What is a story without it? Without the injustice? Without the cliff-hanger? Without the villain?

I love a good story.

Our lives are really all just stories, compiled in phrases and chapters. Some well-crafted with ease and care. Others scribbled on tatters of ripped pages. Some stories are fashioned with resolve and progress, yet others are monotonous, stuck on the same paragraph, repeated over and over again.

Regardless of the condition of your tale, the pen always remains in our hands. We may not choose the obstacle, but we can certainly choose how we write ourselves through it.

You may be wondering, is all this babbling of tales and stories about anything in particular? Not really. This is just a way of dancing around the real story here. A drawing out, hoping that if you don’t say it, then maybe we can ignore the plot thats deviated from the planned storyline. Aren’t they the worst kind? Or maybe they are the best?

You see, this chapter was meant to be similar to the others; stories of pandemic babies, pregnancy and birth, feeding and failures, depression and the long dark days, gratitude and love. A tale of shifting focus and priorities. A story of motherhood. The pages would be glossy and bright, neat and retrospective.

But plans change, scripts are scrapped, edits and rewrites are plenty. That’s good writing, isn’t it? A story is only a draft until its penned into action.

So here I share with you the plot twist:

My Little One is 5 months.

I have cancer.

The pen is still in my hand… and I’ve always loved a good story.

“You will be lost and unlost; over and over again. Relax, love. You were meant to be this epic, glorious story.” – Nayyirah Waheed

[*Renal Cell Carcinoma- RCC. The prognosis is good.  I am ok. You don’t need to worry xx]