At first, the red patches and relentless itching seemed like a simple allergy—maybe from “new laundry detergent or something he ate.” We tried creams and antihistamines, but nothing worked. The itching worsened, and sleepless nights followed.

I finally took him to the doctor. At first calm, the doctor grew serious as he examined the symptoms. He ordered blood tests and scans, speaking in hushed tones. My gut filled with dread.

A few days later, we got the devastating news—it wasn’t an allergy. It was cancer. *“The word hit me like a physical blow,”* and our lives changed overnight. Hospital visits, treatments, and fear took over.

That itching, once brushed off, was now “a grim reminder of the disease spreading through his body.” Chemotherapy drained his strength, but he never complained. I kept replaying the early signs, wondering if we’d missed our chance to catch it sooner.

Now, even small aches fill me with fear. But alongside that fear is determination—*“to fight, to hope, and to cherish every moment.”* Cancer may be part of our story now, but it won’t be the whole story.