6 month follow up

I had a follow up with my oncologist recently.
I hadnt been in 6 months and I have to admit the second I got off the elevator, panic set in.
Not because I was worried about the visit but because the memories were so raw.

Was it floor 8 or 9? I couldn't remember.
Chemo was 8.
Cancer center 9.

I passed the store where I got my never worn wig and the prosthetic that I hated.
I peered in watching an older woman look at some scarves.
My eyes welled up.

I walked up to check in.
Hard sucking candies to my left just like before. (Calms the nausea)
Room filled with a few wheelchairs, one covered their face in a hospital mask, a few women with newly shaved heads.

No one wants to look at each other but we all have the same feelings.
Sorry you're here.
Camaraderie at its finest.
Wishing we weren't on the awful 9th floor.

I get called back for vital signs.
Past the graham crackers of course.
Put on the gown; "opening in front" (Im very familiar with the drill but thanks for the reminder)

I'm doing well actually.
Physically and mentally (for the most part)
but the truth of the matter is words like oncologist, MRI, reoccurrence, remission..
all part of my life now.
And those are hard words to swallow.

I say all the time cancer gave me some kind of new outlook on life but I actually think it was the aging that did it. It just happened to coincide.

The more you age the less you give a crap about the small  and more about the big.
Cancer was just the added straw to the camel.

I put one foot in front of the other
Just like I did before
But my eyes are wider
And now I only like grahams with my s'mores.