Sunday. December 7, 2025. I was in San Francisco last week for five days of focal radiation. I stayed at an old hotel called the Queen Anne. It was built in the late 1800s and is filled with antiques from that era. It sits on a quiet corner which is especially nice for someone like me who is used to the serenity of county living. It is also just a few blocks from restaurants and shopping, so I walked everywhere only using my car for the drive to UCSF each day.
On one excursion, I struck up a conversation with a lovely woman named Cris at the register of a wonderful little gift shop. She asked if I was a member of their loyalty program. I told her no, that I was from out of town. Out of curiosity she inquired as to why I was there for the week. I hesitated before I confessed I was getting daily radiation treatments. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she said. I replied, “Please, don’t be.” Her response was, “You’re right. I should have said, ‘That’s great for you.'” Her words turned a sympathetic moment into a heartfelt one.
“I’m sorry” are words I have heard countless times in the past 7+ years, and I know I’ll likely hear them countless times more. That’s okay. But I’m not sorry about my situation nor do I feel sorry for myself or need, expect or want sympathy. Yes, it would be wonderful if my cancer was not metastatic Stage 4, if my retirement years could be spent having more fun days and fewer health-centric ones. Instead I try to live life with openness, self-kindness, self-care and gratitude and be as happy and fully present in each day as I can. Shouldn’t we all?
It is astonishing how short a time it takes for very wonderful things to happen. āFrances Hodgson Burnett
lana has cancer 