“I had never, ever, in my deepest of life’s depression, considered suicide. My very first chemo dose in 2017, the steroids hit me so bad, I was refusing to go back. I was able to look my (at the time) four year old right in the eye and think she was better off without me. I’d never been in that spot before, or even remotely considered it, and it was educational. I went back and immediately talked about how it felt and we cut the steroids. Everything after that. . . . was kind of bearable. I learned to accept how I cope with things, that showing off and feeling awful are ok, and so long as I get up the next day, I might as well do it again. What else am I doing, anyway?”