Hi, I’m Debbie, an 18-year breast cancer survivor.

My journey began with my second mammogram at 41. The doctors asked me to return because something looked “suspicious.” My mom was with me, holding my hand, as tears streamed down our faces while the radiation oncologist shared her concerns.

Three biopsies later, I was scheduled for a bilateral mastectomy. Both breasts—the ones I fed my babies with—gone, just like that. With three tumors ranging from 0.6 cm to 4.6 cm, I was relieved to get those “bad guys,” as my kids called them, out of my body.

Next up was chemo. With five lymph nodes testing positive, I was ready for my oncologist to throw everything he had at me. I wasn’t backing down. Even after an allergic reaction to the second round of chemo, against my oncologist’s advice, I refused to quit.

Radiation was brutal. I blistered and bled, working from home for weeks because I couldn’t wear anything but a loose t-shirt.

Almost two years after my diagnosis, I was blessed with an amazing, state-of-the-art breast reconstruction by my “artist,” plastic surgeon Dr. Kevin Beshlian and his team at Virginia Mason in Seattle.

Then came the hot flashes, chemo-induced menopause, and taking Arimidex for the next five years, which made walking more than a block unbearably painful.

Was it over then? Of course not. Once treated for cancer, you can’t ignore the constant obsession and lifelong hyper-awareness to any ache or pain. It takes an emotionally and mentally strong person to get past the trauma to their body, lost confidence, and all the inconveniences like anxiety, depression, and PTSD. Not to mention the possible long-term side effects like lymphedema, fatigue, heart problems, neuropathy, bone strength issues, digestion problems, dental problems, weight gain, infertility, and of course, the one every survivor fears the most: metastatic cancer.

And then, it was time to pay it forward. To thank all the amazing people who were there for me—the meals, gifts, positive thoughts, phone calls, and encouragement. For the co-workers who donated vacation hours and meals. For my sisters-in-law who sent delicious baked goods and cleaning services. For the doctors who made me better. For all the kindness and generosity. It’s payback time.

I completed chemotherapy in October, Breast Cancer Awareness Month. Everywhere I looked—on TV, in stores, on social media—people were raising money for breast cancer research and awareness. Pink ribbons were everywhere! But as I navigated the month, I realized none of it was for me. None of it would help me get through treatment. And as I got to know the young women online who inspired me to create The Pink Daisy Project, I realized none of it was for them either. Once you already have cancer, it’s too late for a cure. These women needed practical help. Not a cure, not more research. They needed groceries, gas, and help with rides to treatment.

The goal in creating The Pink Daisy Project was to help in a way that wasn’t available elsewhere. To be a friend to someone who desperately needs one. To buy groceries, cook meals, clean houses, and care for small children.

This is the next best thing.

Thank you from the bottom of my heart for being a part of my mission.