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. 

The New Normal

I don’t know if I can think of a saying I hate more than those three words. I have heard so many people say, with regards to COVID-19, that we need to get use to the new normal. There is nothing normal about any of this. It is not normal for my kids to not be able to have play dates, it is not normal that my kids school shut down and had to switch to distance learning, it is not normal to have to wipe down every single grocery item that gets delivered with Clorox wipes, it is not normal to not be able to hug your friends and family that do not live in your house and it is not normal to not be able to go anywhere. The list can go on. 

I have heard, “this is the new normal”, or “get use to your new normal” when it comes to my cancer journey too. But let me tell you, there is nothing normal about cancer. There is nothing normal about having a radical hysterectomy, there is nothing normal about having nine stent procedures, there is nothing normal about having to self catheterize, there is nothing normal about having a port inserted into your chest, there is nothing normal about losing your hair due to the poison being pumped through your body every three weeks, there is nothing normal about missing your kids’ activities, there is nothing normal about the strain cancer puts on your marriage, there is nothing normal about having a nephrostomy bag, there is nothing normal about the unexplained fatigue and there is absolutely nothing normal about having cancer

You know what does feel normal to me? The constant feeling that I am on a roller coaster except it’s not thrilling. You start off on the ride going extremely fast, your heart is beating out of your chest and you don’t know what is coming up next. Then your ride is steady as you weave around the turns. Up next, you climb the steep hill and then you speed down at full speed and you can’t catch your breath and you’re wondering when is this ride going to end. Right when you think it’s slowing down and you have a grasp on everything, it takes off again and you find yourself going up yet another hill and this time it has loopty loops. This is how I view my current journey with cancer; a roller coaster that I can’t get off and it doesn’t end. A ride that is full of up hill battles and twists and turns at every corner. Despite the gasping for air and the wind in my face feel, I know that this roller coaster is just a detour. The girls love roller coasters and will ride anything they are tall enough for so good thing my roller coaster doesn’t have a height requirement or limit of people because I have the best group of people in my corner. So until my current roller coaster comes to a happy ending, you will find me sitting front row with my arms in the air and the wind in my face. 


Becky was originally diagnosed with cervical cancer in 2018, at age 35, and quickly became an active member of the Cervivor community, joining Facebook Group discussions, attending MeetUps, participating in the September 2019 Cervivor School and becoming a Cervivor Ambassador. She was diagnosed with a recurrence in late-2019, just weeks after returning from Cervivor School. Read her Cervivor story and learn how, amid this most recent diagnosis, her Cervivor Spark and passion to prevent other women from cervical cancer gets stronger each day.