Guilt-ridden, that's how I feel. I feel guilty for being alive every time I hear a cancer fighter lost their life to this horrible disease. A beautiful soul died after fighting it and I feel guilty that she died when I survived.
Every survivor I know feels the same way, it's something imbedded in us, we survived, we're lucky, we've been through that hell, and we escaped it. But the lost souls didn't, by whatever logic or illogic we are at fault because we survived and they didn't.
What makes me so special? Why did I make it? Why couldn't she have made it instead of me? She has a child, that child will grow without a mother, doesn't she deserve to live more than I do?
I feel tainted with survival stench, I cheated death, I am alive, am I worth being given a second chance at life? Do I deserve it when so many fighters out their lose their lives to it on a daily basis?
I am guilty. Guilty to be lucky enough to have survived it..