I Wake Up Though
Series: After the Battle By Deb Davis
Introduction
Every day I wake up to the residue of cancer.
I wake up though.
Those words met me this morning before I even got out of bed. They weren’t meant to be profound or poetic. They were simply true. A quiet statement. A personal reminder.
I wake up even though I still feel it.
I wake up even though I still carry it.
I wake up, and that matters.
Insights for Empowerment
There isn’t a single day that goes by when I don’t feel the lasting effects of the battle. They may not be visible to others, but I live with them — in my body, in my emotions, and in my routine.
The numbness in my chest.
The tightness in my skin.
The medication I take every morning.
The moments when emotion shows up without warning.
On the outside, people see strength and smiles. They assume the hardest part is over. But what they don’t always understand is that the quiet part after treatment carries its own kind of difficulty. There are no celebration bells or community fundraisers for this stage. No meal trains or daily check-ins. Just you, your body, and the life that continues.
A hormone blocker pill is part of my daily life now. It does what it needs to do, and I’m grateful. But it also brings side effects — aching joints, fatigue, disrupted sleep, unexpected mood shifts. Every day I feel the cost of staying healthy.
So when I say, “I wake up though,” I’m naming a truth. It’s not about sounding inspirational. It’s about honoring what it takes just to begin the day.
Conclusion
Healing doesn’t mean going back to who I was. It means learning how to live with who I am now.
Some days, I wish I could forget it all. I wish I didn’t remember the surgeries, the fears, the trauma, or the decisions that had to be made. But that’s not my story. My reality is full of reminders — and also full of grace.
I am still here. I still rise. I still open my eyes.
Even with the pain.
Even with the questions.
Even with the adjustments I didn’t ask for.
This is where my strength lives now. In the quiet. In the residue. In the rising.
Encouraging Nuggets
Here’s what I’ve learned — and what I’m still learning:
Healing takes time and doesn’t always show.
Strength can be found in small moments, not just the big ones.
You don’t have to act like you’ve got it all together when you’re still trying to figure things out.
It’s okay to want to forget, even if you can’t.
Gratitude and grief can live in the same heart.
Progress can look like simply waking up and choosing to keep going.
One verse holds me steady:
“Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed.
His compassions never fail.
They are new every morning.
Great is your faithfulness.”
— Lamentations 3:22–23