So I went and saw my oncologist last week for another lets see how things are going visit. I’m liking her a tad less every visit. It’s that emotionally unavailable bit. And I get it. But I just need her to see me. Me. Not a cancer patient. Anyhooo I am trundling along, my bloodwork was good, my fatigue is lessening, I’m starting to make peace with and accept the side effects of the Aromasin. It just becomes your new normal. I have changed my mood stabilising meds, see what I did there, and psychobitch seems to be making fewer appearances, although my family might disagree. I am delaying decisions re future treatment until next year. 2016 has done enough. I am finally getting at fifty that life is a series of commas. There are no full stops. And especially with cancer. It is not over. It never was over. I will never be able to say with certainty I am cancer free. So what am I you ask? I am officially in remission, which is defined as ‘a temporary diminution of the severity of disease or pain’. Yay me. No seriously. It’s as good as it gets. There is no evidence of disease. For now. I am feeling more like me than I have in a very long time, psychobitch and my inabilty to remember anything vaguely important aside. But there is the reality of the ‘for now’. And all that does is remind me, and you I fucking hope, that it is all bloody temporary, the good and the bad. It will all pass. So celebrate every little good and seek it out, see it, and deal with the bad with as much grace and dignity as you can muster, because it is just a comma. Not a period. Period.
I thought I’d let things fall where they needed to this past month or so. Heeding the advice of many that whilst things feel like they’re falling apart they’re not. They’re just falling into something different. And ain’t that the truth. Bugger is I was quite happy with the before. But growth is something I welcome and change something I’ve learnt to. And we do grow and even transform when we have huge obstacles to overcome. Into something new. But I just can’t quite settle into the new me yet so I’m still letting things fall in to place. Or further apart. And then hopefully back together again. All I do know is, I am not who I was. But dammit, this new me needs to get her shit together soon. I’m feeling far more vulnerable now than when I was kicking cancer’s ass. I was focussed. I was determined. I was a warrior. I had a purpose. I had an army. I was positive. I was not needy. I was not uncertain. I am not fearful, nor am I negative. And I am so very grateful. But just a little hesistant. A little uncomfortable. A little do I just carry on like nothing happened. Like everything is not different. Forever. Do I live every day like its my last. Do I bother. Do I doubt it all. Do I celebrate it all. Do I just be. Do I love the different me that looks back at me. Obviously I know the answers and hopefully I’ll do exactly that once things all fall into place. And they will. And then they won’t. But universe, no more growing needed. I’m all grown up now.
I’m trying my damndest to say you go girl as I put mascara on my three eyelashes, two on one side and one on the other. It’s not working so I’m about to text my friends and say if either of you moans about not knowing what to wear I’m going to spew in your faces. Fuck fuck fuck. I have tried on five outfits. All my clothes are fairly classic and not frou frou at all, okay then borderline masculine, and yet in all of them I look like a fat bald chap wearing a dress. No offence meant but just not the look I was going for. Fuck fuck. And then I burst out laughing and never sent my text cos oh for fucks sake. Who really cares. It is what it is. I obviously get the big picture life blessing. But right now I’m having a little picture vanity moment. And to be honest its actually quite liberating because there’s not much I can do about it. I could have got false eyleashes I suppose but they’d struggle to stay pasted on with nothing to cling to, so for what. And I could continue to feel sorry for myself. But for what. Because I don’t feel like me. I don’t look like me. Fuck that. Who cares that my eyeliner smudges everywhere because there are no lashes to stop it from bleeding. Or spreading. Or whatever the right terminology is. Did you even know that was a thing? Me neither. But still, on goes that eyeliner. I’m quite liking this not giving a damn moment. But please don’t tell me I look great with that look in your eyes. You know the one. Just lean over and unsmudge me. It is what it is so help me be me. Because sometimes it’s a little hard. A little hard for all of us to be us in any given moment. So just lean in. Oh and you go girl.
15 January. My final grateful, gotta love a leap year. I am grateful for a final contemplative moment. For a weak wireless signal, so I found myself on the balcony desperately seeking connection. To no avail. But an imperfectly perfect end to my 366 gratefuls. I am grateful for real time and real connections. They are all that matter. And for them I will never ever stop being grateful. For love. And for this glorious imperfect life.
13 January. My friend Leigh. I am grateful for my friend Leigh. For my pioneering friend Leigh. She is a teacher, a sage, a leader, an inspiration. I am grateful for her honesty, her bravery, her sharing, her ear and her forever friendship. She has lived through some serious shit, and that smile is always there. She has taught me there is always a way. To fok maar voort. With style. And grace. And dignity.
My 365 or 366 gratefuls came to an end on 15 January. Clearly I am playing catch up, or avoidance. In my defence being away from any form of reliable connectivity is the real reason. I think. Actually it has been a blessing and a curse. A blessing as it’s given me time to consider what now, and a curse because now I’m behind. And I never miss a deadline. But I’m starting to understand there is no deadline. And imperfection is exquisite. And as a dear friend of mine wrote so very recently, beginning takes courage, but continuing takes commitment and determination. And courage too. At this point I’m doing neither, but loving that in life there truly is no deadline. So, what will be will be, what will emerge will emerge. Right now, I’m relishing sharing my last days of chronicled gratitude and the change I feel within me. As subtle as it may be.
I missed it. 3 January was my 5 years. I am officially 5 years cancer free. I was officially cancer free for 5 years, 2 days ago. The day I have held as my goal without really meaning to, yet yes counting and being subtly aware of. And I missed it. It was a damn important day for me, a day I wanted to mark and rejoice and give thanks and smile and be still and light a lantern and gently weep, looking up into B’s eyes with wonder and love at all we have achieved. Ohmigod, I think I’m going to vomit. And am seriously considering romance novels as my next outlet. But, how simply fabulous that I missed it. I love that. Even though I made B squirm cos he missed it too. I haven’t told him I had too. Well, I have now. Seriously though. Life is great, life is every day, every little thing every day is as important as everything else, nothing is more important, it’s just the importance we attach to things that makes them so. I am here, I am loved and I love. With all my heart and I am thankful and grateful for every day. And not especially for 3 January. I have grown, I am brave and I look forward to every day with courage and excitement and gratitude. As must we all.