I Had Cancer... and I'm Still Healing
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At Ija’s Beauty, we believe every story is powerful. Today, we’re honored to share Suncera's journey of strength, faith, and healing . A reminder that beauty shines even through the hardest battles
I remember walking into my oncologist's office and hearing the words: "You HAD cancer."
My initial thought was, “Whew. It’s over!” My next thought was about how quick the process was — diagnosed mid-January, surgery on March 7th. “Now things can get back to normal.”
Boy, was I wrong!
Sixteen rounds of radiation later, I am now taking a pill for the next five years. I have discoloration from the radiation and occasional “zings” from reconstructive surgery that cause me to grab my boob as I wince in pain. I still have tenderness and pain in one area where a keloid is forming and will start steroid treatments soon. I still struggle with fatigue — though not as severe as post-radiation — and this is a side effect of my medication. Oh, and there’s the intermittent nausea.
I share this, not to complain. Because the alternative — having cancer — is not an option.
I share this because survivors rarely talk about what happens after. They often grow accustomed to their symptoms and comparative healing. “I am blessed I didn’t need chemo.” “I am grateful I didn’t need a mastectomy.”
Then there’s survivor’s remorse — the guilt of knowing you survived while others did not.
Cancer is cancer. And for the rest of your life , whether it’s after a mammogram, when you see the physical scars, or when you’re reliving the emotional, physical, and financial toll it’s taken — there’s always a whisper of hope that it never comes back.
Get your mammogram. Give yourself the best chance for survival.
Early detection saved my life. And no matter what survivorship looks like for me, I am happy to be here!
I remember walking into my oncologist's office and hearing the words: "You HAD cancer."
My initial thought was, “Whew. It’s over!” My next thought was about how quick the process was — diagnosed mid-January, surgery on March 7th. “Now things can get back to normal.”
Boy, was I wrong!
Sixteen rounds of radiation later, I am now taking a pill for the next five years. I have discoloration from the radiation and occasional “zings” from reconstructive surgery that cause me to grab my boob as I wince in pain. I still have tenderness and pain in one area where a keloid is forming and will start steroid treatments soon. I still struggle with fatigue — though not as severe as post-radiation — and this is a side effect of my medication. Oh, and there’s the intermittent nausea.
I share this, not to complain. Because the alternative — having cancer — is not an option.
I share this because survivors rarely talk about what happens after. They often grow accustomed to their symptoms and comparative healing. “I am blessed I didn’t need chemo.” “I am grateful I didn’t need a mastectomy.”
Then there’s survivor’s remorse — the guilt of knowing you survived while others did not.
Cancer is cancer. And for the rest of your life , whether it’s after a mammogram, when you see the physical scars, or when you’re reliving the emotional, physical, and financial toll it’s taken — there’s always a whisper of hope that it never comes back.
Get your mammogram. Give yourself the best chance for survival.
Early detection saved my life. And no matter what survivorship looks like for me, I am happy to be here!