You were my constant companion for 4 years. No one knew how much time I spent thinking about you and praying that you'd finally pack up your bags and leave. No one saw the many nights I sat awake in bed crying over my four children - ages 4, 3, 2 and 8 weeks when you first came to call - and what it would be like if you won this battle. But I was stronger and I fought longer and now you're finally gone, gone, gone. Those first few weeks after I heard you left back in February, it felt awkward to type "survivor". I couldn't believe I had outlasted you. Somehow, I thought we'd make poor bed mates for the rest of our lives. But now it's just me and my husband in bed, and I am as free as the summer wind. I don't have to think about when my next treatment cycle will start, or plan childcare for my kids while I'm in the hospital, or get labs drawn every week. For years, I made Thursday "Cancer Day" because I could only speak to you once a week or you'd drive me crazy. Now Thursdays are my "Crazy Days" instead: the kids and I always do something weird or wild that reminds us that the little joys we treasure together are what make life really worth living. You may have bankrupted our finances, claimed most of my physical health, and introduced us to fear. But what you didn't know is that you freed us forever from materialism, false hopes and dreams, and the confines of politically correct. Now we're all free as butterflies, in constant metamorphosis to soak up every sun ray, drink in every flower, and dance in every rainstorm. Thank you, Cancer, because I am the most joyful person I know, and you gave me a gift of a free spirit I never dreamed possible.