I wrote this breakup letter last year on this day.
Here you go…
Dear Sloan,
I want to let you know I am breaking up with you. You’ve served your purpose, but it’s time I move on. I deserve more.
I loved my surgeon. Truly. When I found out I wasn’t a candidate for surgery, I was sad she would no longer be part of my team.
My first oncologist? The one who told me I would live only weeks or months or a year or two if it spread to my bone? I am now thankful for her. Had she not scared the crap out of me, I wouldn’t have questioned everything, researched countless hours in “Keri’s Cancer Crash Course College”. I wouldn’t have radically changed my diet and met Paula at the Giving Room. I wouldn’t have gotten over my foot issue and met Danielle at the Peaceful Scorpion. I wouldn’t have taken a chance and met a man who gave me hope and belief I am truly cured. So thank you, first oncologist. Your crappy bedside manner became my wake up call.
My new oncologist and nurse at the satellite Sloan? My new doctor is nice, and gave me a little more hope…but still gives me a funny look when I tell her I am already cured. I even made her feel my boob today to try and find my tumor, because I couldn’t just now. Plus, I gave her one last feel, for old time sake.
My nurse Sue was kind, and let me watch my kindergarten class dancing when she gave me my shot in my ass. It was a big needle. But watching them dance helped me get through it.
I am in pain right now. My arm, my ass, my spirit just a bit. I know I will have some pain in my new relationship, but I’ll take pain with a dose of hope any day.
So thank you Sloan, but I found someone else. Someone who doesn’t look at me like I’m crazy. Someone who makes me feel in every bone of my
body that I’m not crazy, but cured.
It’s not you, it’s me.
So keep doing the work you do, go see other people. Thank you for saving my Dad’s life with his six primary cancers. For that, I will always be grateful. (He is your original radical remission patient, if you would only open your western eyes and believe.)
I wish you love.
Love,
Keri
Faith Over Fear 
Hi Kerry , I read your your blog at times it was hard to read through my tears . Funny thing that connects us besides my daughter in law Marisa. I did meet you in a chance encounter at the allergist’s office . You recognized my granddaughter, and called her by name . Once I realized you were a safe stranger , I was able to enjoy all of the adorable pictures you drew fir her . I am so happy to have had the opportunity to meet you .
My brother is dealing with cancer right now . He was told they have reached the end of what they can do , and told him he has 6 months to live . He is not ready to receive that news and is so very much “alive “!
I had heard your story so many times by that young lady you work with . She talks of you as the miracle lady . I wish I had known on our chance encounter that I was talking to that lady .
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Isn’t God so amazing? He knew to put us in each other’s path. That’s how He works.
As for the six months they’ve given your brother…
1- screw that and screw them. NO ONE should EVER give a prognosis. They can only give a diagnosis, because only God knows the prognosis.
I was told weeks, months, maybe a year or two.
I call bullsh*t.
Have him watch the documentary Heal.
Read radical remission.
Pray to Jesus.
It’s nothing more than a cold.
Tell him to stay where his feet are.
I’ll pray for him.❤️🦋
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