I’m not “throwing in the towel” or “giving up.” Those phrases carry a negative connotation, as if death is something we must avoid at all costs. But death is a natural, inevitable part of life. I’ve been reading extensively about death and dying, and it’s become clear that death can be a profound experience—one I want to embrace. I’m genuinely excited about moving on to my next adventure. My body has clearly let me know it’s tired and ready to retire from its job of housing my spirit.

In July of 2023, my oncologist told me she was ready to refer me to hospice, anticipating I would pass within six months—the qualification for acceptance. Hospice’s role is to ensure comfort once treatment stops. Hospice nurses, social workers, and home health aides visit as often as needed. It’s recommended to begin hospice care earlier, to truly get to know a patient before the very last stage of life. Most people start too late. But two years ago, I didn’t feel ready, and it didn’t feel right for me.

My naturopathic doctor, however, found a protocol that has kept me surviving and thriving for almost two years. I’ve been taking Estradiol, alternating with an Aromatase Inhibitor. My cancer was estrogen receptor positive, meaning it feeds on estrogen, so prescribing Estradiol seemed counter-intuitive. Yet, my oncologist was willing to support this protocol because a scientific study provided the justification she needed for the treatment.

We frequently monitored my cancer markers through blood tests, using the results to determine when to switch back and forth between Estradiol and Aromatase Inhibitors. My CA27.29 numbers consistently decreased when I was on Estradiol. When the cancer markers rose, we would switch, and the numbers would climb with Femara, Arimidex, or Tamoxifen (we tried all three with similar results). When the cancer marker reached as high as we were willing to risk, we switched back to Estradiol. The theory was to ‘confuse’ the cancer, slowing its progression. It worked for almost two years.

I knew that when the numbers continued to rise, even with Estradiol, it would mean the protocol was no longer working. That happened about two weeks ago.

Any other available treatment would significantly diminish my quality of life. In our death-phobic North American culture, extending life as long as possible is often the default choice. However, I’m more interested in quality over quantity. My body has been signaling its readiness: through continued weight loss, discomfort from tumors in my liver and lungs, and increasing extreme tiredness.

I officially enrolled in hospice on June 29th, 2025, and it feels like a refreshing relief to shift my focus. I’m no longer taking any supplements to “fight” cancer. I’m eating hamburgers, French fries, and milkshakes without guilt. I’m feeling the immense love from my family and friends and allowing them to help me. This feels like a very special and unique time of life, and I want to experience it to the fullest, even though it isn’t always comfortable. So far, I’m not in any pain, and I trust the hospice staff to manage it when it happens.

Years ago, I visited Elizabeth Stock-Gonzales when she was on her deathbed. She had brain cancer and three small children. I told her I was praying for her and asked what she wanted me to pray for. She thought about it and said she wanted me to pray she would die in such a way that her children would not be afraid of death.

I’ve been thinking about what my purpose is now. Perhaps I can die in such a way as to lessen someone else’s fear of death. Or, maybe, by openly discussing the dying process and death, I can have an impact on the death-phobic culture we are immersed in.

I don’t have complete clarity about why I am still here, but my prayer, as always, is: “Make me an instrument.”