Met a "survivor" today (I quote it because I hate the word and need to find another)
Last week found out another friend has breast cancer.
I'm beginning to think I'm starting to know more people than not who have had cancer.
I am 15 months out from my last treatment.
People assume you have kind of moved on.
But here's a news alert- you just don't.
Yes.
My days are no longer consumed with my treatment (but I still fear cancer) (like- all the time)
I look in the mirror and don't cry over my growing awful hair styles (but I do sometimes cry at all my scars)
My arm pits don't burn from radiation (but I do have bumps and lumps which are apparently side effects from the gift of radiation)
I am not having weekly blood draws- where I get stuck twice (sometimes three times) because I apparently have "rolling veins" that look deceivingly "beautiful" .
The thing is- you are kind of always this cancer patient.
Because you may go for checkups more than others.
Because each twinge and ache worries you a bit more than the average worrier (has it spread? has it returned?)
Because we have gone through a hell and back that you just cannot understand...
unless you've been wheeled down the surgical hallway
and worn the johnnie and shower cap
and sat in the chemo chair
You just can't.
Which is why every time I meet a new "survivor" and hear of a new cancer girl/boy I just want to envelope them in a giant hug.
And I oddly want to discuss surgeries and side effects and doctors and treatments
not necessarily because it bonds us
but because I kind of find it cathartic
which is why I blog
and write
and share my insides
catharsis
Thanks, as always, for following me
and supporting
and not judging
and laughing and loving
I'm taking this moment to be grateful for something today
(instead of really being annoyed at my disarray of a house)
(Which complaining does nothing except gets me riled up)
Right now I'm grateful for an upcoming needed vacation
(which is kind of an oxymoron because aren't all vacations needed?)
Last week found out another friend has breast cancer.
I'm beginning to think I'm starting to know more people than not who have had cancer.
I am 15 months out from my last treatment.
People assume you have kind of moved on.
But here's a news alert- you just don't.
Yes.
My days are no longer consumed with my treatment (but I still fear cancer) (like- all the time)
I look in the mirror and don't cry over my growing awful hair styles (but I do sometimes cry at all my scars)
My arm pits don't burn from radiation (but I do have bumps and lumps which are apparently side effects from the gift of radiation)
I am not having weekly blood draws- where I get stuck twice (sometimes three times) because I apparently have "rolling veins" that look deceivingly "beautiful" .
The thing is- you are kind of always this cancer patient.
Because you may go for checkups more than others.
Because each twinge and ache worries you a bit more than the average worrier (has it spread? has it returned?)
Because we have gone through a hell and back that you just cannot understand...
unless you've been wheeled down the surgical hallway
and worn the johnnie and shower cap
and sat in the chemo chair
You just can't.
Which is why every time I meet a new "survivor" and hear of a new cancer girl/boy I just want to envelope them in a giant hug.
And I oddly want to discuss surgeries and side effects and doctors and treatments
not necessarily because it bonds us
but because I kind of find it cathartic
which is why I blog
and write
and share my insides
catharsis
Thanks, as always, for following me
and supporting
and not judging
and laughing and loving
I'm taking this moment to be grateful for something today
(instead of really being annoyed at my disarray of a house)
(Which complaining does nothing except gets me riled up)
Right now I'm grateful for an upcoming needed vacation
(which is kind of an oxymoron because aren't all vacations needed?)
Comments
Post a Comment