Whos hands are these?!!

Leukemia has stolen my hands. This morning when I got out of bed I noticed my joints were

especially stiff and achy in my hands. In fact when I look at my hands I don't even recognize them. I haven't been able to wear my wedding band and engagement ring in over three years. At this point I don't think I ever will be able to again. I have made an appointment to see my Rheumatologist next week. I refuse to go down without a fight!



Excerpt from my novel The Good Fight-

I feel like I am BROKEN. My eyes have no tears, my thyroid no longer functions efficiently without medication, every inch of my skin is extremely dry. For three winters in a row, I had the attack of warts all over my hands. Without prescriptions, and my daily routines my body would rebel and break down. Faith needs to be at the very top of my priority list each and every day. Being broken is extremely exhausting. When I look at old pictures of my family and me, it is almost like I do not recognize the old me. The look in her eyes and her innocent smile is long gone. As I tried to explain to my husband when it was finally just the two of us one evening- that girl in the picture died. I may be technically still alive but that Tracy Lynn Kearcher in the photo died the day my family and I received the Acute Myeloid Leukemia diagnosis. I will never be emotionally, physically, or mentally the same. I have gone through a personal war. A war against cancer and chemotherapies, a war against aging naturally, a war against time, a war against innocence. I had many allies along the way. My friends, family, doctors, and nurses were a dream team but, in the end, I had to fight my battle alone. No one in the entire world has ever had the exact same experience as me. At times it was and is a very lonely and scary journey. There was an invisible line that had been created along with the diagnosis. The line divided me (the infected) from everyone else in the land of the living. They could eat fresh vegetables and smell the fresh crisp air outside of the hospital walls. They didn’t have to take endless prescriptions, be poked and prodded more times than they could count. They got to eat the cake the nurses bought for their anniversary, since they weren’t nauseous from treatment. Their life as they knew it hadn’t changed overnight without any warning


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