different

They say cancer changes you. What they don't tell you is how it changes everything else – especially your relationships.

Now that my hair has grown back and I'm "out in the world" again, people see me and think everything's okay. They see the surface – the physical recovery – but they don't see the years that cancer stole from me. They don't understand that while they were living their lives, I was frozen in time, fighting for mine.

Cancer ghosting That's what happened. When I was in the thick of things – when I needed support the most – certain friends just... disappeared. The silence during those vulnerable moments spoke volumes. Now, these same people act like nothing happened, like there isn't an elephant in the room the size of my chemotherapy port.

I ran into an old friend recently. The encounter was awkward, heavy with unspoken words. They smiled and chatted as if the past few years hadn't happened, as if they hadn't been absent during the darkest chapter of my life. I found myself wondering: Should I mention how much it hurt when they weren't there? Should I vocalize the pain of their absence?

But I didn't say anything. Instead, I realized something profound: there's nothing left to talk about with people from my past who couldn't show up when I needed them most. It's not about holding grudges; it's about acknowledging that I've transformed. As my friend A said, "I breathe different now."

thankful for the friends I have made during the journey forever friends