The "C word" (that other "c word"): it's not supposed to apply to you. You're in the prime of life—healthy, maybe an athlete, probably a student, not crazy-tanning mom, not a chain-smoker—and not supposed to have to deal with things like this. Cancer happens to little kids who get leukemia and old people, but not you. Not now. Not me. 
Because the odds of getting cancer as a young adult are smaller than if a person is fifty-five or older, there's not a lot of cancer-related info, help, or resources directed at those in their twenties or thirties. There are countless women's breast cancer support groups, men's prostate cancer support groups, and even children's cancer camps, but there's just not much out there for those who fit in between and shouldn't have cancer as part of their limited life experience. You are not a child—you can grasp the gravity of the situation—and yet, you are not really an "adult" in the proper sense of what we assume that looks like. You don't make many life-altering decisions for yourself or anyone else, you don't have life figured out (but who does, really?), and you don't feel mature enough to have to handle this. 
Those were my thoughts. "Cancer, seriously?" It's such a bizarre and surreal thing to be diagnosed with cancer—that terrible and ominous word that looms out there and affects millions each year. And yet, who ever really thinks it will happen to them? Not me, for sure. At a time when I was trying to figure out who I was and what to do with my life, having cancer as a part of my identity never once crossed my mind. Cancer was something I knew about and saw in movies, and I secretly feared it coming for me. But then I remembered that I'm not that unique and don't really stand out, so surely I'd be exempt from something so unusual and dramatic. My life was pretty normal, and while at times I thought that was lame, I figured it also meant I'd be able to sidestep something tragic or monumental like cancer. 
I was a college senior, twenty-one years old, a varsity NCAA athlete in great health, and I felt fine on the day I found out I had cancer. I didn't smoke, drink, do drugs, sleep around, go tanning, or live an extraordinary life. And I'm pretty sure I've never been exposed to Agent Orange (yep, that's a risk factor for Hodgkin's). I'm actually a very ordinary person who makes "safe" choices. To many, being twenty-one means partying and living carefree, but my twenty-first year was one I'll never forget and that will impact me for the rest of my life for very different reasons. Instead of partying, celebrating freedom, blowing off college classes, and being otherwise irresponsible, my twenty-first year included frequent trips to the hospital, learning what chemotherapy was, worrying about my white blood cell counts, listening to my body's limits, and wondering what on earth I was doing with cancer. 
My hopes are that, as I take you through my journey with cancer, you can understand a little more about what the big scary "C word" means physically, emotionally, and spiritually. My story is just one of millions, so I realize that I'm not comprehensive, and I wouldn't purport to be with so many different types and stages of cancer out there. But hopefully you can resonate with the feelings, fears, frustrations, and even joys that I encountered along the way. I'll walk you through my journey, from the tests leading up to the diagnosis to my last treatment and where I went from there. 
I recently heard a pastor define encouragement as "putting courage into" someone. I love that because I love encouragement, and that's one of my two goals here. First, I hope to put courage into you, whether you have cancer, you know someone with cancer, or you'll ever have trials in your lifetime (consider this my disclaimer that I love sarcasm and irony). 
My second and most important goal is that you see Jesus Christ and the incredible ways God provided for and moved in my life when I had cancer. I want you to know, like the Israelites leaving Egypt knew, that even when the sea towers above, an opposing army threatens, safety and the days of old beckon, and the way is physically impossible, in the words of author Robert J. Morgan, "the same God who led you in WILL lead you out."