When I first heard the words stage T3N+ rectal cancer, it felt like the ground fell away beneath me. Suddenly, my calendar was filled with appointments, scans, and treatments, and my mind was spinning with questions I couldn’t yet answer. In the middle of all that uncertainty, one thing remained steady: my knitting.

A Lifeline in the Chaos

Knitting has always been a passion, but during treatment, it’s become something more—it’s my lifeline. The rhythm of knit and purl, the feel of yarn moving through my hands, the small satisfaction of finishing a row—it all reminds me that there’s a rhythm to life, even in the middle of disruption.

Small Projects, Small Wins

On days when energy is low and my body feels heavy, I don’t always have the focus for big projects. Instead, I keep a ball of soft yarn and a simple pattern nearby. A washcloth, a hat, even a few rows of garter stitch. Every finished piece feels like a small victory—a reminder that progress is possible, even if it comes one stitch at a time.

Choosing Comfort in Yarn

Chemo days can be long, and hospital chairs aren’t exactly cozy. I started bringing my knitting bag to treatments, filled with yarns that feel especially comforting—squishy merino, soothing alpaca, cheerful colors. It’s amazing how much comfort something so simple can bring in a clinical space.

The Knitting Community

Another gift has been the community of knitters who’ve reached out. Friends have sent me yarn, patterns, and kind notes. Online groups cheer me on, and some even knit alongside me virtually. It’s a reminder that knitting isn’t just about fabric—it’s about connection, love, and care woven together.

Looking Ahead

I don’t know exactly what the future holds, but I do know this: every stitch is an act of hope. Knitting doesn’t take away the fear, or the fatigue, or the reality of cancer—but it gives me something tangible to hold on to. And that’s enough.

If you’re going through treatment yourself, or supporting someone who is, maybe pick up your needles. A single row can be grounding. A finished project can be healing. And in between, the yarn carries you gently forward.