I've been shielded from the worries of cancer in a way. 

My mom in my opinion has done most of the work. And my dad. 

Always attending the chemo sessions, gritting teeth while in the waiting room. 

Watching the drawn faces of people passing by receiving goods news or not so good news. 

I can't quite imagine how many sleepless nights my dad has had leading up to the appointments. 

It's like equating every journey to the hospital as a new feather. You grow your wings in the process of going through it. And then when it is all said and done, and you are blessed enough to be deemed free of the old feathers, you start growing new ones. 

People assume that those feathers leave and they don't. The pain and continued worries of all those beautiful feathers you collected on your coat stay with you for a lifetime. The pink one added for the needle poking and prodding you and the bottles of water you have to drink earn you another. A green one for the money spent on parking garage tickets and a blue one for all the days your anxieties hang behind you like dripping water.  

But all in all those feathers add beauty and character, instill new dreams and resilience and a little extra love. And we call it the invisible rainbow coat. For no one truly has a rainbow coat unless they've earned it. And very few have. And very few will.Though, one I know for certain. Because it is the ultimate form of love or sacrifice that cannot be bought. It cannot be told or remarked upon. It is just that-purely invisible. It does not brag nor boast. It simply is love.