One

It starts with just one cell. In every human body, there are trillions and trillions of cells, but it only takes one. One cell that for some unknown reason mutates and goes rogue. Maybe the reason is genetic, or maybe environmental. Maybe it's completely random, but regardless this cell mutates and begins to reproduce itself rapidly. Depending on the specific mutation, it can take weeks, months, or even years, for that one cell to become millions of cells. In the beginning, it goes unnoticed and in general causes no symptoms, but eventually as the millions of cell continue to rapidly multiply, eventually another cell mutates again, and begins to multiply in a completely different place in a completely different organ. Eventually, the body begins to react to these Benedict Arnold cells, which have effectively begun a war against itself. For different mutations, there are different symptoms, ranging from pain to fatigue, to physical lump, and eventually is detected.

It is cancer.

When the doctor utters those words in your presence, it's liked being socked in the gut. Your ears buzz as the doctor starts talking about treatment and prognosis, but inside you're still coming to terms with that word. Cancer. How did this happen? Why? Am I going to die. Your mind is flooded with questions, some of which perhaps the doctor is answering but you don't notice. It's hard not to feel as if your own body has betrayed you, because it has.

It is fortunate that I have been able to survive all the rounds a harsh chemotherapy that it takes if you are going to wage war against those rogue cells that, left unchecked, will eventually kill you. I survived. My mother didn't. My friend Donna didn't. Thousands of others won't this year. But as a survivor, I am left with guilt. With distrust. Will the body that betrayed me once betray me again? Have we won the war, or merely the battle? I choose to believe the latter, but deep down I can't help but remember....It starts with just one cell.