Two years after cancer: A mammogram, a memory, and a lesson in compassion

I recently had my two-year mammogram (no cancer detected, Yay!)—and this time, it was at the same place where my cancer was originally discovered. Walking through those doors again brought back a flood of memories. The waiting, the fear, the technician moving briskly through the halls while I sat wrapped in a green and blue gown, hoping for good news.

I recognized her immediately—the same technician from the day they found the spot. She didn’t remember me, but I remembered her kindness. I also remembered the doctor who barely looked at me when she delivered the news that I needed another biopsy, and the technician who, seeing my tears, simply asked, “Can I give you a hug?”

That hug carried me through the day. And it wasn’t the only act of compassion that helped me through my cancer journey. From the nurses who gently attended to me, to friends who showed up in quiet, thoughtful ways, kindness made the unbearable bearable.

Lately, though, I’ve started to wonder if compassion is becoming extinct—like phone booths, or using the left lane just to pass.

It seems like every time I turn on the news or scroll through social media, there’s more division, more outrage, and less of puppies, kittens, and kindness.

We all have an opinion (some louder than others). But as we live amongst our neighbors and beyond, do we still show empathy? Patience? Or give the benefit of the doubt? These things seem to be slipping through the cracks. Or at least it feels that way.

Maybe it’s the times we live in. It feels like creating division is intentional. Maybe it’s the stress, the politicians, the uncertainty, the sheer volume of information we’re bombarded with every day. Or maybe we’re all just tired—tired of caring yet still feeling like we’re losing the battle.

Compassion isn’t gone. It still exists. It shows up in quiet moments. A stranger paying for someone’s coffee. A neighbor shoveling the driveway for someone who didn’t ask. A friend who accompanies you to an appointment, or cooks you a meal. These moments don’t make headlines, but they matter.

And honestly? I get why compassion can be hard. It takes effort. It’s easy to say, “Yo! be nice.” But it’s harder when you’re overwhelmed, when life keeps piling stress on your shoulders, or when you’re dealing with someone who’s just a jerk. It’s hard to respond with grace when you’d rather roll your eyes, mumble some choice words, and move on.

But here’s what I try to remember: Compassion isn’t about grand gestures. It’s about offering a smile to the security guard at the grocery store (yes, that’s where we are now). It’s remembering to say please, thank you, and excuse me—small words that carry weight. It’s about pausing for a second and choosing to assume the best in people rather than the worst. And believe me, I know how easy it can be to assume the worst—I’ve done it. And I’ve been wrong.

The world isn’t suffering from a lack of intelligence, ambition, and definitely not opinions. What we’re suffering from is a lack of grace. A lack of willingness to step outside ourselves and recognize that every single person we encounter is carrying something heavy. Some people are struggling quietly. Some are exhausted. And some are fighting battles they’ll never talk about.

And I get it– some people will test every ounce of patience we have. Some will make it incredibly difficult to extend compassion. Or with some, one may not agree with how someone looks, what they believe, or how they live their lives. But compassion isn’t about deciding who deserves it—it’s about extending it anyway. That’s called humanity.

Maybe, if we all made a little more effort to be nice, to give grace, and to see people as human first, compassion wouldn’t feel so hard to find. Because in the end, the world doesn’t need more opinions—it needs more heart.