Back in my chemo chair for my fifth Zometa infusion… and this time, it falls in Ramadan. There’s something about Ramadan that feels collective. Even if you’re not Muslim, you can probably relate to having certain seasons in the year that feel different; more intentional, more reflective, more connected. For us, Ramadan is that month. Yes, we fast from dawn to sunset. But it’s also about slowing down... about discipline when it’s hard, patience when you’re tired, and remembering what really matters. And today, my Ramadan looked different. Instead of fasting, I was hooked up to an IV. Instead of preparing for iftar, I was listening to the steady beep of machines and watching medication drip into my veins. I won’t pretend that it didn’t sting a little. There’s something tender about knowing your family is moving through the day in a shared rhythm, breaking fast together and you’re sitting it out. But faith isn’t one-size-fits-all. In Islam, when you’re unwell, you’re not just allowed to p...