Ten years ago, as I readied myself for surgery, I didn't dare think this far ahead. As I went to the hospital, and they put me under, I thought I was beginning the last stage of my life's journey. I thought my cancer would be the kind Libby got, the kind Mom had; the aggressive kind that never slows as it runs amok through your body, creating unbalance, systemic chaos and death.
I woke up this morning.
At first, as I was dealing with cancer and the aftermath of its treatment, I thought of the experience in entirely negative terms. I'd been having the time of my life in my camper van, and was NOT HAPPY to have the trip cut short. I hated the breast implants. I still miss my girls, saggy and unlovely as they were. That-damn-shot left me exhausted me in ways I can't describe.
But still, I woke up each morning.
Time passed, and I began to feel better. Time passed, and people I loved died from cancer and other stuff. Time passed, and I realized the good I'd found in my bout with the disease. I remember (still) how loved I felt when going through the initial treatment; more people love me than I'd known. I see how my brush with death sharpened my awareness of the preciousness of each day. Cancer taught me cancer is not the enemy; death is not the enemy. The enemy is fear.
I woke up this morning!
I've learned to listen to my fears as they arise, to tell them I hear them, to tell them I am not going to let them rob me of any of my good days, to then move on. Because today is the only day I have, and I don't want to waste it fretting about fears, real or imagined. Each day, I try to have the best day I can have, anyways.
I woke up this morning.
There was sunshine today. I saw a robin. Spring will come. And, margarita truck willing, I'll be here to see it. Ten years in, the cancer docs have cut me loose. The cancer will probably come back at some future point, but for today, there is no evidence of disease. Ten years in, I am grateful to know, that while I will carry the scars on my body as a reminder of my trial for the rest of my life, the scars on my soul have largely healed.
I am still here!
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