I moved my daughter, Ke’ili, back to her place today. It was bittersweet. She was treated with CAR-T immunotherapy a little over six weeks ago. She was in-patient for just over two weeks, and then we brought her to our home to care for her. Driving herself to and from the cancer center was off the table. She isn’t allowed to drive for a few more weeks.
My strong, brave, beautiful daughter has a work ethic beyond belief. The first nearly three years of her first diagnosis, she only missed about a month of work. Sometimes she could not walk or climb stairs independently, but she worked daily. As I drove home, I thought about her dedication to her job. I wondered how this experience of relapse has affected her. She doesn’t talk about it. I also thought about the two years prior to the relapse when she thought, hoped, and prayed she had beaten cancer.
Beating cancer might feel like the final boss battle, but the game doesn’t roll credits there. If you’re a young adult survivor—or someone close to one—here’s the truth: recovery is not a return. It’s a rebuild. This post is about what comes after survival, the things people gloss over, but that hit hard. We’re not sugarcoating it, but we’re not giving up either.
You survived. So now what? Friends might expect you to pick up where you left off, but that version of you doesn’t exist anymore—not in the same way. Fatigue can linger. So can pain, anxiety, and chemo brain, which messes with your focus. The pressure to “bounce back” is real, but you need space to adjust to a new baseline.
You beat cancer. Why are you still sad? Angry? Numb? Because surviving trauma doesn’t cancel the trauma. Fear of recurrence is a shadow that sticks around. Depression and anxiety aren’t signs of weakness—they’re normal reactions. Therapy helps. So do support groups, journaling, meds if you need them, or just being honest when you’re not okay. You don’t always have to be “strong.”
Some days your body feels fine. Other days, it reminds you of everything it went through. Chronic side effects—nerve pain, hormone issues, sexual health changes—don’t get much airtime, but they’re real. Prioritize your body’s needs: movement, rest, nutrition, and boundaries. Keep showing up for yourself.
The bills don’t stop just because the treatment did. You might face gaps in employment, lost insurance, or a sudden need to switch careers. That’s heavy stuff. Discuss financial assistance programs, talk to a social worker, and explore legal aid. You’re not alone and don’t have to figure it all out overnight.
Cancer doesn’t just test your body—it tests your relationships. Some people step up. Some disappear. It sucks, but it reveals who’s really in your corner. Learn to set boundaries. Communicate your needs. And don’t be afraid to find new connections with people who get what you’re going through.
Life after cancer can make everything feel urgent—and meaningless—at the same time. What matters now might be completely different than before. That’s okay. Maybe you want to tell your story, volunteer, switch careers, or just be present. You don’t have to have a grand plan. You have to live your life your way.
If you’re still struggling, you’re not broken. You’re human. Survival is complicated. Healing takes time, and it rarely follows a clean timeline. Talk about it. Write about it. Ask for help. Demand better support. And know this: you don’t owe the world inspiration. You owe yourself honesty, healing, and hope.
You’re not alone, to every young survivor and those who love them. Keep the faith. Do as my daughter did—stay productive and positive. Surround yourself with good friends. Believe in yourself.
Be well, and Happy Spring!
Shirley
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