Whole Health Series: Navigating the Stages of Healing in Survivorship
I used to think healing had a timeline.
That once you rang the bell, you got to move on. That after the surgeries, the chemo, and the tears, life would pick up where it left off. You’d bounce back grateful, wiser, and ready for your “new normal.”
But survivorship doesn’t follow a script.
And healing? Healing has a mind of its own.
Enter Ria Patel, a young ovarian cancer survivor, who reminded me of this truth.
Ria was still deep in her chemotherapy journey when it happened. Her grandfather had just come home from the grocery store, and like she always had, she stepped outside to help. She reached for the gallon of milk and couldn’t lift it. Her arms gave out. Her body, once strong and familiar, whispered: not today.
It wasn’t just the milk. It was the weight of everything she’d been carrying in silence.
Something broke open in that moment. Ria realized that healing wasn’t about “getting over” cancer; it was about learning how to live after it. She had survived, yes. But now, she had to relearn how to thrive in a body and a world that had been forever changed.
“Your experience with cancer will always be a part of you, but it will never define you. Survivorship is going to be a journey of trying over and over again. If you find yourself failing, you’re doing it right.”
— Ria Patel, Ovarian Cancer Survivor
Ria spoke of the changes in her body, the shifting in her relationships, and the emotional toll of appointments that stacked up like bricks, each one heavier than the last.
But Ria is a fighter.
She signed up for a weightlifting class with her best friend, Sophie. Slowly, her strength returned. Deadlifts. Front squats. Each rep became a way to reclaim her body—inch by inch. But healing wasn’t linear. There were follow-up scans. Missed milestones. New waves of anxiety. Doctor’s visits that blurred together. Endless referrals. More tests. More waiting.
And yet, in the midst of it all, Ria chose to write. To speak. To heal out loud.
In My Life Matters magazine, she didn’t just tell her story with beautiful vulnerability; she used her voice to establish yet another bridge towards survivorship. One that helps lay the stones for every young woman sitting in a waiting room. For every survivor who thought they were “past it” until fear crept back in or some aftereffect from treatment manifested that wasn’t expected. Sharing her experience gave voice to so many others who look okay on the outside but feel shattered within.
Reading her words reminded me why platforms like My Life Matters magazine exist. Why Tigerlily exists. Why so many other organizations giving voice, support, and empowerment to patients exist.
Why we must keep telling our truths even when our voices shake.
Because survivorship isn’t the end of the story.
It’s the beginning of a new one.
And somewhere right now, there’s another young woman standing in her kitchen, realizing a gallon of milk is suddenly too heavy. The gallon of milk that represents so much of the weight that others can’t see and that many of us carry for a lifetime. The gallon that is so filled with gratitude for the blessing of life, yet heavy with the other things. This is the truth about survivorship, and the gallon of milk is in some ways carried as well by those who love us.
Someone said to me the other day, I don’t know how you stayed in one job for twenty years. I smiled. This “job” is me; it has been my lifeline, it has given me community, it has allowed me to serve, and it gives me a platform to amplify the experiences and voices of millions of cancer patients, survivors, thrivers, and those who love them.
With love,
Maimah Karmo
