My name is Christine and I’m a breast cancer survivor. I live in Pottsville, Pennsylvania with my huband Mark, and I’m the mother of two beautiful grown daughters. This week I turn 61.

When I was younger, I had always assumed that I would live to see old age. My mother lived to be 88 and her mother lived to be 103. I had always kept up a healthy lifestyle, swimming during the week and walking on weekends. I was careful about what I ate and how much. There was no history of breast cancer in my family and I went in routinely for medical checkups.

So it came as a surprise when in October of 2005 I received a letter in the mail following my annual checkup. There was an abnormality in my mammogram that upon further investigation was found to be cancer. The small 1.5 cm lump in my breast had already metastasized to 14 lymph nodes in my body, according to the neatly folded form letter. Just like that I went from looking and feeling healthy to fighting for my life.

I’ve never been an emotional person. Most people get existential and cry; they call everyone they know. I just took all the information in and swallowed it. I had my husband for support, and my daughters nearby. I would survive, I told myself.

I was determined to live and I was determined not to let anyone know how scared I was. To keep myself from thinking, I kept busy, scheduling appointments, reading up on my condition. I talked to my husband about procedure, practicalities, order—anything to keep from thinking about how close I was to the edge.

By January I had completed the required evaluative lab tests and received the first of eight chemotherapy treatments. After that there would be 35 sessions of radiation over a period of seven weeks. I had it all calendared and counted the days. I would lose my strength, my hair and my energy, but I would not lose my life.

The miracle is that I did not and I have not.

I have been cancer-free since my treatment, and I no longer take this silvery stage of life for granted. This birthday will be a good one with both my daughters in town, and I already have plans for a 62nd. I’m grateful for every year that I have now, but I’m no longer scared. I’ll go when I’m ready and in the mean time I’ve got things to do. I’ve got places to go, and people to love, and maybe, someday, grandchildren to see. Happy birthday to me.