I was just six years old when cancer suddenly consumed my life.
It began on what should have been an ordinary, exciting day—my first day of first grade. My mother was brushing my hair as I chattered with anticipation about school. She seemed worried, but I waved it off, insisting I felt fine. She sent me off with a kiss, unaware that my life was about to change forever. When I returned home, the lump she had noticed had doubled in size. Alarmed, she rushed me to the pediatrician. After a quick exam and some tests, the doctor reassured us there was nothing to worry about. But my mother knew better. She pushed for a referral to a specialist. Soon after, I underwent a bone marrow aspiration and a spinal tap. The diagnosis came swiftly: Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia. I was six years old, and my odds were grim—just a 50% chance of surviving 12 months with treatment.
As a child, my days should have been filled with play and laughter, yet instead they became a relentless cycle of hospital visits, surgeries, chemotherapy, and tests. But I was not alone. Cancer doesn’t only affect the patient—it touches every family member. And together, we all fought.
My treatment spanned three long, grueling years. Daily chemo pills, monthly hospital stays with heavy chemo cocktails, countless bone marrow aspirations, chemotherapy administered directly into my spine, and endless blood tests became my reality. I battled pneumonia more than once, was forced to drink my nutrition, and lost my long, thick hair. The hospital became a second home, the staff became family, and my fellow young patients became classmates in this unexpected school of survival. My world had turned upside down, but often, I hardly noticed—it simply became my life.
Family was my anchor. I am the youngest of five children, and my parents juggled work, home life, and caring for a seriously ill child with unwavering devotion. Now, as a parent myself, I am struck by the magnitude of what they endured. Watching your child struggle through illness is a parent’s deepest fear—it feels as though your heart is living outside your body. My parents made certain I never spent a night in the hospital alone. My siblings, especially my older sister Linda, became constant pillars of support. Physically and emotionally, having my family by my side made a profound difference in my ability to heal. Every fighter needs a support system, and I was blessed to be surrounded by a large, loving one.
Cancer shaped who I am, though I didn’t realize it at the time. My parents strived to preserve some sense of normalcy, letting me attend school whenever I could and continue with activities I loved. Swimming became my refuge—a meditative escape from the chaos of treatment. I competed with my local swim team, then club teams, and eventually earned a scholarship to swim at UC Irvine. Swimming grounded me, eased my anxiety, and gave me a sense of freedom during a time when life felt uncontrollable.
Today, I am an adult survivor, in remission for 37 years, and I share my story in the hope of inspiring others. I want newly diagnosed patients to know that a good life after cancer is possible. To give back, my niece Gracelyn Bateman and I founded Luna Peak Foundation, dedicated to supporting the grief and cancer communities. Over two years, we photographed and interviewed cancer survivors for our newly launched book, Beyond Remission: Words of Advice for Thriving. This collection offers hope, guidance, and a sense of community to newly diagnosed patients, survivors, thrivers, and caregivers alike. Every fighter benefits from seeing that hope, resilience, and thriving are possible.
In December, we were able to donate a copy of the book to every new oncology patient at Torrance Memorial Medical Center’s Hunt Cancer Center. Our goal is to continue expanding this resource and supporting more patients. We’ve also built a vibrant Instagram community where we witness firsthand the courage and growth of those newly diagnosed. Looking back, I realize that six-year-old me would have drawn immense comfort and inspiration from Beyond Remission, seeing others flourish beyond their treatment.
Life after cancer is not always simple, but I choose to embrace my history rather than hide it. I am a mother, wife, sister, daughter, swimmer, business owner, and proudly, a cancer survivor. I wear my survivor status as a badge of honor—not as a story of pity, but as a testament to the fierce battle I fought against a disease that wanted to take my life. I married my high school sweetheart, Tom, who was inspired by my journey and went on to become a hematologist/oncologist. Together, we have three sons—a miracle for a childhood cancer survivor.
My parents’ vision of celebrating life after remission continues to inspire me. When I went into remission, they organized a “celebration of life” party—a tradition we continue annually. We honor not only my triumph over leukemia but also the countless friends, family, doctors, and supporters who carried us through those dark times. Fighting cancer is never a solo journey, and I am eternally grateful for the incredible team that surrounded me.
Through Luna Peak Foundation, I hope to help others celebrate life in all its moments. Cancer can change a person, but it doesn’t have to define your new normal. My advice to anyone facing this fight is simple: embrace life fully, find hope in every day, and remember that joy can coexist with the struggle. Celebrate everything, for life is fragile, beautiful, and worth every triumph.
