Planting Hope: My Cancer Journey Through the Flower Garden

Back in March and April, I started seeds indoors with excitement and a plan. I was dreaming big this year—more rows, more blooms, a bigger cut flower garden than ever before. I pictured myself out in the sun, barefoot in the soil, planting beauty with my own two hands.

What I didn’t plan for was cancer. I had high hopes after being laid off from my full-time job back in September. In November, I gathered a game plan for a wonderful 2025 growing season. I did hours of research, classes and looked in USDA resources to own a farm myself. I looked into several programs and was a great candidate for agricultural loans & grants. From November to February, I had a solid plan put into place. What I did not expect was cancer and how it would take over my entire world. I was extremely tired, but I persisted through it to ensure I would create a solid plan in motion. I’m resilient. I’m full of grit and when I want to make something happen, I will. I will not give up.

Here was my game plan:

This Was Supposed to Be My Garden Season

Shortly after sowing those first seeds, I was hit with overwhelming fatigue. Not just tired—bone-deep exhaustion. Walking across the room became difficult. The tumor in my body made it hard to move, hard to stand, hard to breathe some days. My whole world shifted.

Still, I couldn’t let the garden go.

I had worked too hard to start those seedlings. I watched them sprout, knowing I might not be able to give them the season I had hoped for—but I was determined to give them something. It took me five times the effort it might take someone else just to get a few trays outside. I needed help. I couldn’t do it all alone. And honestly, that was hard to accept.

I Wanted More—And I Grieved That

The truth is, I had a vision for this garden. It was going to be bigger, fuller, more colorful than any year before. But cancer took so much of my strength. I had to downsize. I had to let go of parts of the dream. That wasn’t easy.

It felt like something had been stolen from me—not just my energy, but this thing I had looked forward to all winter long.

But here’s the thing: even a smaller garden, planted through tears and pain, is still a garden. And maybe it’s even more meaningful now.

What This Garden Means to Me

Every flower that blooms this summer will be a quiet reminder of the grit it took to keep going. Of the days I planted while barely able to walk. Of the moments when I felt completely broken, but still crawled outside to touch the earth.

This garden isn’t the one I dreamed of—but it’s real. It’s honest. And it’s mine.

If you’re going through something hard right now, and your plans feel shattered—just know you’re not alone. Sometimes all you can do is plant what you can, with the strength you’ve got, and trust that it still matters.

Because it does.

Because you do.

@rootedandresilient Replying to @JILL Yeah, I can share what happened. I first felt the lump in March. Then in April, I broke out in shingles — which was weird because I’m only 37. Doctors thought it was a hernia, but the pain kept getting worse. I could barely walk without limping. It wasn’t until I went to the ER that they took it seriously. That’s when I finally got scans and a biopsy. It turned out to be Diffuse Large B Cell Lymphoma, high grade. Now I’m starting chemo. I’m a mom of 8, and this has changed everything. If something feels wrong in your body — trust yourself. Keep pushing for answers. #LymphomaAwareness #Misdiagnosed #CancerSymptoms #Shingles #HighGradeLymphoma #LymphomaJourney #FightingCancer #MyCancerStory #InvisibleIllness #ChronicIllness #healthadvocate ♬ original sound – rootedandresilient