Gratitude Awakening

Dogwood in bloom.

A sense of deep gratitude is something that I have carried with me since finishing treatment for cervical cancer. Especially during those first phases of recovery when you feel like you’re stepping out of the fog and back into the world. It was overwhelming to go outside and have my lungs fill with fresh air, feel sun on my skin, and to finally have an ounce of energy with which to enjoy it. I would walk my dog every day and take it all in with my (cautious) sense of victory over cancer. No phone to distract me, just the awe of what once felt so mundane.

Cervivor School Cape Cod 2018

Like so many of my Cervivor sisters, I had a complete shift in my mindset after going through cancer. There’s a level of gratitude attained after being isolated and having your mortality hanging over you like a dark cloud every single minute.

The sick feeling is so strong that it’s hard to imagine ever being able to feel better. I remember spending those hard days thinking about what I would do once it was all over. I mainly daydreamed about family gatherings with yummy meals, or spending time out in nature. The shift in mindset also pertained to relationships. I was alive, and ready to live my best life. That meant deciding what, and who, was worth my time and effort. It meant ditching behaviors that didn’t serve my purpose, and creating boundaries where needed to stay true to what was important to me.

In this uncertain time of the COVID-19 pandemic, the whole world is getting a taste of what it’s like to be threatened by their environment, stuck with their worries and no sense of control over any of it. I see friends beginning to talk about what they’ll do after this is over, and what I see is so similar to my own experience. People aren’t talking about going on a lavish vacation; they just want to get their nails done. Or hug a neighbor. See a movie in the theater. Catch up with friends in person. Not have to disinfect groceries. Normal, everyday activities that were previously taken for granted are now desperate aspirations. That is what it feels like all the time for those fighting cancer, but at an even more basic level. Personally, I dreamed to be able to walk four feet to the bathroom without breaking a sweat. Not having to be bathed by my partner while holding the wall for support. Feeling fresh air on my face and having real light shine down on me after recovering indoors for so long. Walking up a flight of steps all by myself. Holding down food. I learned that being mad about my situation didn’t make it go away. There was no workaround. The only way out was through. 

Pretty Azaleas blooming in my yard.

Having been faced with all that and making it through to the other side, I was going to start living my life unapologetically and with a renewed sense of appreciation for what matters at the core. When you can no longer do such simple functions, you learn what matters in life, and what really doesn’t— like the ten extra pounds gained from coping with a very scary time.

My hope is that when the pandemic is over and everyone can come out of their homes and go back to work, that a prevailing sense of gratitude will make the world a bit softer of a place to be, for the short time that we’re here to enjoy it. I hope people will see that the time to live your life is now. I hope when regular life resumes, and it will be that ever present “new normal” us cancer survivors so often speak of, that people don’t forget what it was like to have the rug yanked from under them by circumstances beyond their control. Hard times make us strong and perspective, makes us compassionate. I am grateful that we still have the wonder of the outdoors to soothe our souls, Zoom to see our friends, and for the people working so hard to keep us safe and healthy. 

Mary Baker is a three year survivor of stage 3B cervical cancer. She is an advocate for women’s health, a mom of two and proud Cervivor Ambassador and Cervivor School graduate. 

35 Hospital Bracelets: Symbols Of My Journey With Cervical Cancer

“35 Bracelets”? I am not referring to beautiful gold bracelets that one wears to symbolize something special, or gifts that people give to one another as a symbol of their relationship.


I am referring to 35 hospital bracelets. I was given one each time I had an external radiation treatment. It has been 11 years and 2 months since I was declared cancer FREE, and I still have them.  


Why? As a reminder of where I’ve been, and every step I have taken since then. As a reminder of every single treatment that I had to go through to fight cervical cancer. As a reminder that at one time I was identified by a bar code with numbers. As a reminder of coming face to face with my own mortality. As a reminder of the person I’ve become today. As a reminder to share my story to prevent other women from going through what I did.  

Many cancer patients document their journeys either by writing on their journals, blogs or by taking pictures while going through treatments. Well, I have to say, I didn’t do any of those things. I didn’t write about it, talk about it,  nor did I take pictures of myself while in treatment. Yet, I know it did happen. I have the memories and the scars.


I guess these 35 hospital bracelets tell part of the story, but the memories of my journey are embedded in my mind. I remember what it took for me to get out of bed every single day to go for treatment, I remember every machine used on me and I remember every needle that went through my skin. I don’t put away these hospital bracelets in a closet where I don’t see them. I have them in plain sight. They hang on the side of my refrigerator in a simple Rite Aid® plastic bag. 


Perhaps I can be more sensitive and put them in a nicer bag, but I wont.  That Rite Aid® bag is what I chose back then when I started collecting them one by one. They have been there all 11+ years, and will remain there as a reminder of the work I need to do as an advocate of this disease. I sometimes regret that I did not take any pictures, but at that time, it wasn’t even a thought. Pictures, journals, blogs even these 35 hospital bracelets can be destroyed or lost, but my memories will live with me for a lifetime. 

Patti is a Cervivor Ambassador and Cervivor’s Wellness Instructor. She is a retired NYPD police officer and an 11 year cervical cancer survivor. She resides in NYC with her husband of 21 years where she’s a Group Fitness Instructor and a Health Advocate.