We were driving to clinic the other morning — just another day in the long rhythm of hospital visits, lab checks, and waiting rooms. The kind of day that has become so normal for us that I almost forget how extraordinary it really is.

From the back seat, my daughter — my brave, beautiful fighter — suddenly said, “Mom, everyone knows the song ‘I’m Still Standing.’”

It was such a simple comment. Just a passing thought from a kid on the way to another long day at the hospital. But something about it stopped me.

Because yes, everyone might know that song.
But not everyone lives it.

As I drove, I could hear Elton John’s voice in my head — “I’m still standing, yeah yeah yeah.”
And I realized how deeply those words fit her, fit us.

She is still standing.
After each chemo infusion.
After hospital stays.
After the endless pokes, the nausea, the tears, the fear.
She’s still smiling, still dancing, still finding light in places where most people only see darkness.

And somehow, so am I.

Now, that song has become the soundtrack that plays quietly in my head at every clinic visit. Every time we walk through those automatic hospital doors, every time we hold hands in the waiting room, every time I see her courage on full display — “I’m still standing” echoes in the background.

It’s strange how certain songs can hold so much power. I used to hear it and think of strength in the abstract — resilience as a concept. Now, it feels personal. It’s our theme song. Our anthem.

Because in a world that has tried to knock us down, here we are — still standing.
Maybe a little scarred, a little shaken, but standing nonetheless.

So when she sings along, carefree and off-key, I can’t help but smile through tears.
She doesn’t even realize how perfectly that song tells her story.

And one day, when this chapter is finally behind us, I hope that when she hears it, she remembers not the fear — but the fight.
The courage.
The survival.

Because we’re still standing.