DEFIANT 91: Ruthee's Story

And I thank God every day 

For the girl He sent my way 

But I know the things He gives me 

He can take away 

And I hold you every night 

And that's a feelin' I wanna get used to 

But there's no man as terrified 

As the man who stands to lose you 

Oh, I hope I don't lose you 

What I didn't know when I first heard Benson Boone's words was how prophetic they would become—or how my journey through cancer would teach me that the very lifestyle choices I was making every day were either feeding the disease or fighting it. 

Like so many people, I believed cancer was mostly about genetics, bad luck, or environmental factors beyond my control. I had no idea that research shows diet and lifestyle factors contribute to 80-90% of cancer cases—far more than our genes ever will. I didn't realize that inflammatory foods, sedentary habits, chronic stress, spiritual emptiness, and toxic relationships were creating the perfect storm for disease in my body—the same factors that lead to weight gain, depression, and chronic illness. 

But here's what gives me hope, and what I want to share with you: the same powerful lifestyle changes that help us lose weight naturally and reach our ideal body composition are often the exact same changes that reduce chronic inflammation, boost our immune system, and dramatically lower our cancer risk. This includes not just what we eat and how we move, but how we manage stress, nurture our faith, cultivate meaningful relationships, and care for our spiritual well-being. 

It's interesting how songs can really resonate with us. A mere mortal like me had never met nor will ever meet Benson Boone, but it's like he knew me as he sang about that elation I felt when things finally started to turn around after years of hard times—when prayers were starting to be answered and hopes and dreams were coming true. But that elation was mingled with fear that everything could still be taken away. Benson Boone may have known all too well. So did I. 

Last year, I finally got married to the most wonderful man in the whole wide world. My husband is the sweetest and most loving man I've ever met—the man who exceeded my lofty dreams and expectations and my long list of what I wanted in a husband. (Guess that's why I got married late—at the age of thirty-six!). While we were still dating, I was battling breast cancer, and right before getting married, I was finishing up a year of treatments—chemotherapy, surgery, radiation, and immunotherapy—and my would-be husband supported me every step of the way. He prayed with me, encouraged me, and sent me little gifts all the way from New York, so I would know that he loved me so. Barely done with immunotherapy, I left Guam to join my husband on the other side of the world. 

Newly married life was bliss. I knew I found my best friend. We shared a lot of laughter, enjoyed shared hobbies, sharpened each other's minds with theological and philosophical stuff, and always looked for ways to make the other feel loved every day. We were very grateful and happy, knowing how blessed we were with the little life we were building. 

"Beautiful Things" was one of the most popular songs at the time, and I even found myself singing along: "Please stay/I want you, I need you, oh, God/Don't take/These beautiful things that I've got." "How fitting," I remembered thinking to myself, "with things finally going so beautifully—God, please don't take away my beautiful things." I had no idea of the test we were about to go through and that it would come so soon. 

We bought a house that summer of 2024—a fixer-upper on the most beautiful piece of land with a pond, daffodils, lilies, grapevines, berry bushes, and all kinds of trees: pines, oak, maple, cherries, and magnolia. Acres upon acres of corn fields surrounded our little house—giving us privacy and making our property feel infinite. My little family worked so hard turning this house into a home. And so, to take a little break from all the renovation, we planned to go camping. Well, my family went camping. But I stayed behind because it was during the same week as my first appointment with an oncologist here in New York. 

With my family away in Pennsylvania, I merrily continued with the part of renovating that I could do by myself—painting the interior. That's when I noticed more of the early symptoms of what was going to be months and months of medical scares. "My period does not feel right," I told my husband over the phone, as I was painting the kitchen walls a deep sage-y green. "It's been so heavy, and it's kinda taking longer than the usual 3-5 days. By the way, I still have those bruises, and they're not going away." I, then, noticed that the stepladder I was sitting on was soaked in blood as it went through my pad. We could not figure out why I had these bruises, and now, why my period had not stopped... We thought these would eventually go away with the right kinds of supplements. However, my intuition was telling me that something was not right within my body. 

A couple of days later, my family finally came home from camping. I put on the pretty dress and earrings that my husband bought for me. He was so happy to see me, and we embraced tightly. "I couldn't wait to come home," he said, "I hate being away from you." That evening, I started developing a high fever. I told my husband that my head hurt badly and that I had the chills. When my symptoms did not go away two days later, my husband took me to Urgent Care. Perhaps, I caught a bug, and I would be given some medicine and be sent home. But when I told them that I was still bleeding profusely after ten days of period, the Urgent Care staff told my husband to bring me to the Emergency Room immediately. What followed were days and nights of needles, constant beeping of hospital machines, and bags of blood and platelets as I was admitted in the hospital indefinitely. 

The window of my hospital room was lined with flowers, cards, and gifts from family and friends. I was alone that morning since my husband went to work. A young doctor came to my room, "Mrs. Krop, we would need to do a bone marrow biopsy." Before she could finish speaking, I was sobbing and blubbering, "I'd like to ask my husband first before I decide on anything." I remembered when a doctor first told me that they needed to do a biopsy two years ago. No amount of positive thinking and wishing stopped that diagnosis from being a triple-negative breast cancer. I feared this biopsy would bring me bad news again. I thought I saw distress in the young doctor's eyes as I sobbed after she said the word "biopsy," and then, she left the room. I don't think I ever saw that doctor again. 

"Mrs. Krop, the results of the bone marrow showed that you have myelodysplastic syndrome," another one of the doctors who was treating me finally shared. 

"Mayo…what is it again?" A word I could barely pronounce. 

"It means that your bone marrow is not producing enough blood cells and that the ones you have are damaged, that's why you've been experiencing malaise and bruising. Blood transfusions will help you for the time being, but we can talk about a stem-cell transplant more in the future." My husband and I looked up "myelodysplastic syndrome." It's basically a type of blood cancer that can progress to leukemia. 

It was a quiet drive home. I was finally released after a week in the hospital. My husband and I were so grateful that I was home now, but our happiness was mixed with sorrow and uncertainty about the days to come. I was also feeling very exhausted. As soon as we were parked in the driveway, tears were streaming down my husband's cheeks. "I love you so much," he said. His words were heavy with meaning and yearning. "And you just got here. I don't want anything to happen to you. You just got here." 

I knew what he meant. Life seemed so cruel after he went through a very devastating divorce and then, my battle with breast cancer. When things were finally turning around, the beautiful things that we had seemed to be slipping away. "I'm scared that with the tragedies you've gone through, like your best friend dying and the divorce, you're going to start believing that God does not have good things for you," I said. My husband sobbed—his breath catching in his throat. I held him tighter, my own tears falling on his shoulder. "I pray that no matter what happens to me, you will believe that God has good things for you." 

We went through several more months of hospital stays and blood transfusions to help keep me alive. Even simple tasks seemed too difficult, and I was often feeling out of breath. The MDS was taking its toll on my body, and it seemed to be getting more and more dire quickly. When in the beginning, a blood transfusion would help me feel well enough for two to three weeks, later transfusions were starting to be less effective. I was needing blood transfusions twice weekly by January. The only way to really help me was to get a stem-cell transplant, according to my doctors. I asked if we could wait until Thanksgiving and Christmas were over so I could spend the holidays with my family before the transplant. 

Our first anniversary, January 24, was not spent in a fancy restaurant nor on a walk and ice cream at the beach. Instead, my husband brought me, the day before, to Wilmot Cancer Center for my scheduled procedure. The nurses administered the type of chemotherapy that would completely kill off my own bone marrow cells for the donor's stem cells to graft. It was the most difficult thing that my body had ever endured as I felt every pain and inflammation as my white blood cells and platelets disappeared. There were a couple of nights where I thought I'd gone to hell and back. 

"I'm going to be direct with you," one nurse said while giving me informational booklets, "the ones that eat, drink, and walk around laps and laps in this ward get out of here the quickest." It was all the motivational talk that I needed to hear so that I could get my life and health back! Even when I was feeling horrible, I pushed myself to do what she told me would make me get better. I spent two weeks in the hospital and was released on February 7. Since then, I've been getting better. Healthier. Stronger. More and more determined to rebuild the health I lost twice. You should see how I work out at my husband's gym! 

It's September 5, 2025, when I wrote this. Through my husband's relentless research and our journey together, I've learned something that has changed everything: before we met, I had no idea how much my daily choices—not just around food and exercise, but my stress levels, spiritual practices, and relationships—may have contributed to my cancer. I thought I was living "well enough," but I didn't understand the profound connection between what I put in my body, how I moved, how I managed stress, how I nurtured my faith, how I cultivated relationships, and how all of these either create an environment where cancer thrives or where vibrant health flourishes. 

Now I want to do everything I can to prevent cancer from coming back, and more importantly, I want to share what we've learned with the world. This is part of why Defiant 91 was born. 

My husband had witnessed up close how this terrible disease took the lives of his best friend, both grandmothers, and many other loved ones. With my recovery from both breast cancer and MDS, we are deeply, truly grateful that we have been gifted another chance to build on the beautiful things that we have—and to help others do the same. 

Here's what we've discovered that gives us tremendous hope: The same patterns that lead to obesity, weight gain, and chronic disease—inflammatory foods, sedentary living, chronic stress, spiritual emptiness, and toxic or shallow relationships—are the same ones that create the perfect storm for cancer. But flip that around, and you'll see the incredible opportunity: the healthy habits that naturally bring us to our ideal weight and reduce inflammation are the exact same habits that dramatically reduce our cancer risk and support our body's natural healing processes. This includes nutrient-dense foods, regular movement, effective stress management, deep spiritual practices, and nurturing, life-giving relationships. 

This program was born from our journey—not just mine, but my husband's too, and the journeys of countless others who refuse to let cancer define their story. We've learned that fighting cancer is not just about surviving treatments: it's about living defiantly against the disease and despair. 

Defiant 91 is 91 days of daily defiant behaviors to reclaim your health—one quarter of our full Defiant 365 program, a year-long journey of daily defiant habits: 

• D-Daily Devotion 

• E-Exercise 

• F-Food science lessons and daily recipes 

• I-Intentional Connection 

• A-Alternative Therapies 

• N-Nutraceutical supplements for weight loss and cancer prevention 

• T-Time Enhancement therapies and chronobiology 

• 
  

Every morning when I wake up in our little house surrounded by cornfields, when I see the daffodils blooming near our pond, when I work out with my husband with renewed strength—I'm reminded that we don't just survive cancer. We thrive beyond it. 

The next 91 days aren't just about nutrition and exercise. They're about reclaiming your life, one defiant choice at a time. They're about understanding that every meal is either feeding disease or fighting it. Every workout is either building your body's defense system or letting it weaken. Every moment of prayer or meditation is either reducing the chronic stress that fuels cancer or allowing it to persist. Every relationship you nurture is either adding life-giving energy or draining your vitality. 

They're about believing that God still has beautiful things for you, even after the hardest battles. They're about becoming so strong in body, mind, spirit, and community that cancer doesn't stand a chance. 

If you're carrying extra weight, battling chronic stress, feeling spiritually empty, struggling with toxic relationships, or simply want to do everything in your power to prevent cancer from ever taking hold in your body—this is your moment. The same journey that will help you reach your ideal weight naturally will also build the strongest possible foundation for lifelong health, deep relationships, spiritual vitality, and cancer prevention. 

This is your invitation to join us in living defiantly—not just surviving, but thriving with purpose, hope, and unshakeable faith. Your beautiful things are waiting. May you and those you know who have been touched by cancer—or who simply want to build the strongest possible defense against it—know this hope, too.