Six.

When you fight cancer, they tell you about the things you will have to battle. About the hair loss, the sick, the weight loss, the mouth sores, the bed sores, the surgeries, the deformations, the knee replacements, the infections, the fevers. It's information overload, and you try to soak it all in, but the knowledge slowly settles into your bones as your treatment becomes a routine. The slow repetition of infusions, complications and surgical procedures wrap around you in twisted vines until you understand.

But they don't tell you about the fight after cancer. The guilt. The confusion. The emotional damage that sits in the back corners of your stomach and rears it's head at the most inconvenient and surprising times. And they don't tell you what it's like to cope with life after cancer. The limp. The unstable joints. The questions. The label that you can never seem to shake.

They don't tell you about that fight. You just discover that battle all on your own. And then you either let it sink you, or you survive it.

And I refuse to be anything but a survivor.

I am six years cancer free.

I've nearly forgotten about that emotional damage that is still hiding out somewhere in my gut. I mean, I know it's still there because sometimes it rears its ugly little head and comes bursting forth. But I've accepted that it will take a long time to recover from it all, because here's the thing: you don't just come back from cancer. You don't just accept your survival and everyone else's death. You don't just say: "I had cancer and it's okay." Terrible things happen! And it's okay to be human and to feel sad about them. Here's the secret though, about terrible things. It is possible to come back from them, eventually, because beautiful things happen too. And I would never know; never see, never appreciate the beautiful things I have seen in the last six years without experiencing the terrible. I would never know the hope of the Gospel of the LDS church. I would never appreciate the incredible rush of falling in love that I experienced with my Best Friend. I would never know what it means to love someone unconditionally as I have loved my 32 second graders all the way in China. I would never value the sunset over the Yellow Sea, the way my car warms up in the morning, the way my knees bend as I walk upstairs, painting my roommates toes, taking afternoon naps, singing with the windows rolled down. I would never love those little things the way I do now, because I never knew how beautiful they all were. And for that, I am grateful for the terrible thing that was cancer. I am so incredible grateful for it.

I am still putting myself back together; even six years later, and I've come to realize that I might be putting myself back together for the rest of my life. But I am putting myself back together. And that is all that matters.

I am six years cancer free. And sometimes, I forget I even had cancer. But I did. I had cancer and I fought it every day. And it was terrible. But it was beautiful, too.

And every day is a continued battle and I continue to fight it. Because that's what being a cancer survivor is all about, really. Not just surviving, but fighting it every day. And loving every minute of it.

I am six years cancer free.