In February of 2003, I was a left-handed woman, wife and mother in apparent good health. I ate reasonably well, was physically active, had annual checkups, practiced meditation and yoga, attended church regularly, and volunteered in the community.

Today, I am all of those things plus the grandmother of four; except now, after diagnosis and treatment of soft tissue sarcoma, I am a right-handed amputee with a different perspective on life.

I have learned that with patience and persistence, I can do anything I want to do. Every day I am confronted with something that is two-handed. I have the opportunity to learn to do that thing a new way, to ask for help, or to decide – gracefully – never to do that thing again.

I describe cancer as the narrow spot in an hourglass. The sand travels from the top, through the tight spot, to the bottom. The sand is refined and redefined — and with a different arrangement. Life is full of narrow spots (not all named cancer) — they indicate change

I have been engaged in sharing this metaphor through my speaking with various groups and individuals for 20 years.