Cassie K.

To my fellow survivors and fighters: keep advocating for yourself. Keep dreaming. Keep choosing life, even when it’s hard.

To anyone living with GVHD today,

I see you.

I know what it’s like to survive cancer and a bone marrow transplant, only to realize the fight doesn’t end there. GVHD can feel like a cruel continuation of a battle you never asked for. For me, it showed up most in my eyes, changing something as simple and sacred as seeing the world clearly. Ocular GVHD has affected how I work, how I train, and how I move through the world. Some days, it’s exhausting. Some days, it’s invisible to everyone but me.

And yet, life didn’t stop.

In the years since transplant, I’ve trained my body again. I’ve stepped into the cage and fought. I’ve traveled, hiked, and gone scuba diving in places I once wasn’t sure I’d ever see. Not because it’s easy. Not because I don’t have bad days. But because GVHD doesn’t get to decide how much life I’m allowed to live.

If you’re in the thick of it right now, please hear this: you are not weak for struggling. You are not ungrateful for wanting your body to feel “normal” again. And you are not alone in the frustration of carrying something long after the cancer is gone.

Hope doesn’t always look like a cure. Sometimes hope looks like adaptation. It looks like showing up anyway. It looks like learning how to live fully in a body that has been through war. Sometimes it’s as small as getting through today. Sometimes it’s as big as chasing goals you never thought you’d get back to.

Your journey is valid, whether you’re still in survival mode or slowly rediscovering what living looks like for you now. You are more than your diagnosis. You are more than GVHD. Your story still has purpose, meaning, and power.

To my fellow survivors and fighters: keep advocating for yourself. Keep dreaming. Keep choosing life, even when it’s hard.