After battling thyroid cancer, I worried I wouldn’t live to see my daughter grow up.

Right before I left the house that morning, I took one last look in the mirror. Good. My shirt covered the bright-red scar that curved across my neck right above my collarbone, a reminder of the surgery I had undergone two months earlier for thyroid cancer.

I’d just completed radioactive iodine treatment and my doctor had said my prognosis was good. But I couldn’t help wondering and worrying. My 10-year-old daughter came up behind me and gave me a hug. “Have a great day, Mom!”

“You too, Alexandra.” I hoped she couldn’t tell I was forcing a smile. “I’ll take her to school today,” my husband, Danny, said. “See you tonight, honey.” I waved and stepped out the door, feeling guilty that nothing seemed to banish my fears.

Not Danny’s reassurances. Not Alexandra’s hugs. Not even knowing how many people had been pulling for me since my diagnosis - family, friends, even strangers on internet prayer chains. Sure, the worries subsided from time to time.

Then I’d remember how difficult it was to grow up missing a parent (my father died when I was 13) and I’d become terrified all over again that I would leave my daughter to the same fate.

Driving to the office, I prayed: “Please, Lord, give me a sign that I’ll be here to see my little girl grow up and have children of her own.”Work was so busy I pushed my fears and my prayer, to the back of my mind. At lunchtime I dashed out to Costco.

Waiting my turn at the checkout, I mentally went over the tasks I had to finish back at work.A child giggled. I looked up. Right ahead of me in line was a young mother and her little boy. I watched her play peek-a-boo with him. “Where’s Grandma?” she asked.

He pointed to a gray-haired woman standing near the cashier. She turned and blew the boy a kiss. That’s when I noticed the long, curved scar right above her collarbone. It was faded, but I knew at once what it was. The telltale mark of thyroid-cancer surgery. And to me, an incredible sign of hope.