Beyond Financial Toxicity: The Hidden Cost of Time Lost to Cancer

Written by Marie Camacho

When people talk about financial toxicity — the staggering cost that cancer brings — I nod along, because yes, that part is very real. The bills, the missed work, the insurance battles — it’s exhausting.

But there’s another form of loss that doesn’t get enough attention: time toxicity.

Time is the one thing cancer quietly steals — the moments, the laughter, the ordinary days that suddenly feel out of reach.

When I was diagnosed with breast cancer, my children were just two years old. At an age when their world revolved around playtime, hugs, and endless questions, mine revolved around

appointments, treatments, and recovery. I no longer had the energy to chase them around the living room or read bedtime stories without my eyes closing halfway through. Some days, I was too exhausted from chemo to even lift my arms. Other days, the pain made it hard to move.

I remember avoiding photos during that time — not wanting to document the woman staring back at me in the mirror. I didn’t want my kids to remember me like that: pale, bald, tired. I told my family to keep them busy, to distract them from seeing how sick I was. I thought I was protecting them.

But looking back, I realize I wasn’t protecting them — I was protecting myself from the fear of being remembered that way. In doing so, I took away moments we could’ve shared.

Because here’s what I’ve learned since: children don’t see us the way we see ourselves.They don’t focus on the missing hair, the tired eyes, or the greenish skin.They just see Mom.The one who loves them. The one they run to. The one whose presence — not perfection — matters most.

Cancer steals enough. It takes your energy, your health, and your finances. But don’t let it steal your time. Even if it looks different — even if it’s snuggles in bed instead of playtime in the park — those moments still count.

Today, I try to make up for that lost time. We go out, we act silly, we take pictures, we make memories. I laugh louder, hug longer, and say yes to the little things that bring us joy — because I know how precious that time truly is.

If you’re going through treatment right now, my advice is this:Don’t wait until you “feel like yourself again” to live. Let your family see you — all of you — even in the hard moments. They don’t want perfection; they just want you.

Through my nonprofit, One Tough Cookie, I’ve made it my mission to help others reclaim moments of joy and connection — because even when cancer is present, life and love can still take up the room.

Time may have been stolen, but joy can always be reclaimed.