I felt the warmth of the sand on my back, the heat of the sun above. I heard Bob Marley playing in the background, asking if I could be loved. I absolutely and definitely could not be loved. I didn’t even need to be anymore. All I cared about was right here with me: my sunblock, a nice cold drink, fantastic music playing from someone’s radio. I was even grateful for the seagulls, despite that the little sky rats stole my sandwich. I was grateful for every single inconvenience there was.

I shook my head to the beat of the song and sipped my chilled margarita, taking in the ocean breeze from the Atlantic. The sun and the ocean were like a drink, heating me up and chilling me down at the same time. Just like my cancer—showing me how to live and killing me at the same time.