It isn't easy to find yourself closer to death than you'd imagined. I always felt I would live well into my 80s, watching my children and grandchildren grow with the love of my life at my side. Funny how things turn out. At age 22, I met a man whom I fell hard for. He was shy, kind of awkward like me, and we were the perfect combo. He had a vintage '50s vibe, and I went with it. We were deeply in love, and we went too fast, got engaged after 4 months of dating, and had a baby one year after our engagement. But we carried on, moved, I guess, too much about the country, and had another child 8 years after the first. He and I were so close that we didn't spend a single day apart for the first 7 years of our relationship.

Life happens, and things change, and people grow apart. Although I never felt different, I guess he did. I still find it hard to believe that he left me the way he did.

Moving forward, a marriage can only thrive if there is communication, and we never had that; we were both shy, and he even said we were the exact same person. He knew what I was thinking, and I knew what he was thinking. We just didn't relay it in words. I knew he was unhappy with his career, and in a way, I was too. He was a baker and I a veterinary technician. Both jobs can be demanding, hours are bad, and the veterinary field is tragic at times. I thought we could solve those problems by moving; we moved a lot, and I know it probably wasn't healthy. I honestly don't regret it. We met in Fresno, CA. Both born and raised there, moved to TN, then to AZ, then back to Fresno, then back to AZ, then to NC, then back to AZ, then to OK.

Oklahoma, where everything nose-dived. I took a job as a practice manager in a small town in Ok. I figured the cost of living was so low, we could easily buy a house, something that was nearly impossible in AZ. I loved my job, I was good at it, and my husband went through two jobs rather quickly because he was unhappy. He then settled into a retail manager position and seemed okay with that job for the time being. It was there he met the Beaver, at least that is what I call her. He'd come home and talk constantly about her; she'd send him numerous texts throughout the day. I knew something was up, but could not prove it quite yet. I hired a private investigator and did my investigation work too. During this time, I started to have this severe chest pain, and I thought I was having a heart attack. it would come and go. I also noticed a small lump in my armpit, and it was very itchy. I decided to go to the doctor at that visit, and the doctor told me he was highly suspicious of breast cancer. I thought he was crazy, kinda blew it off. I mean, here I am in this small town with not the greatest reputation for health care, so I just ignored it. In July of 2023, I had the most severe chest pain. It was a Saturday morning, my husband wanted to go out shopping that day, and I told him, no, I think I need to go to the hospital. After a series of tests, they told me they wanted to evaluate my heart overnight. I told them about the lump in my armpit, and they ignored it. I stayed in the hospital, and I could tell it rattled my husband. Ultimately, they told me I had a pulled muscle and sent me home.

I sought additional care in Tulsa, a bigger city with hopefully better health care. I was diagnosed with breast cancer. I was in shock, with no genetic markers for breast cancer. I told my husband, after weeks of us fighting and me accusing him of cheating. I started to slip at work; my mind was on my cancer and my marriage. I didn't seek care or treatment; I was too focused on my marriage. I eventually found him cheating; the private investigator got numerous phone calls and texts. I was furious. I had cancer, and he was cheating on me. I went out one night and drank; I drank a lot. I went home, basically got him out of bed, and I hit him, I hit him in the face over and over, I hit him. He called the police on me, and my oldest son defended me. The police told my husband to leave. They told him to take items that meant something to him and leave. He took his guitar and cowboy boots, not his 15-year-old son. It was then that I realized he was the cause of my cancer, all those years, it was him. The stress of his job, his complaining, his spending, his cheating, and his lies.

I left the house we shared and moved in with my mom and sister. My two boys came too. They wanted nothing to do with their father.

I met someone in November of 2023, he was much older than me, and I was not looking for anything serious, just casual dating to get my mind off my health. It quickly turned into more than I expected. He cared about me, something I had not felt in many years. We pretty much hit it off and have been together ever since. That January, I was diagnosed with stage 4 breast cancer; it had spread to my bones and liver. I needed help getting dressed, walking, and getting into my car. I went to MD Anderson in Houston for a second opinion. When I was there, I fractured my back in two places, a compression fracture and a burst fracture. I was hospitalized for 9 days. All of this, Billy was with me, he never waivered on our relationship and didn't give up on me. I went through a lot of scrutiny, and many did not believe I had cancer, including my ex-husband and my siblings. Many thought I was wrong for hitting my ex-husband, and many questioned the age difference. Now, I have learned to forgive those people and move on; they can choose the side they want, and I can go on living my life. I have realized that building up pent-up feelings and hate only makes you sicker.

In April of 2025, I had a routine brain MRI; there were 27 brain mets, with one showing possible leptomeningeal involvement. It was s shock and hard to fathom. I promised my youngest son I would be there to watch him graduate from high school, but now I have no idea what time I have left. I have entered a clinical trial at MD Anderson, and for the most part, I am doing well. I still work full time, play softball, and work in my garden. I do get tired and have low platelets much of the time, but I still make each day count. The cost of traveling to Houston every 21 days is becoming difficult; the time off from work for both my boyfriend and me is daunting. I am asking for any help; no donation is too small. I have two children that I want to see become something great, and a grandchild would be amazing to see. I have pets who love and need me. I have a boyfriend who has done so much for me that I want to marry him. I promise to fight for these things and stay focused on doing what is right and forget the past. I just want to live.