It has been what seems like a lifetime since the endless posts about medical procedures, test results and chemo updates; many of which made me cringe to re-read. Living a life consumed by fear and uncertainty for nine months seems overwhelming at this point. These days, my thoughts are focused on work deadlines, summer camps and dinner prep. While thoughts of cancer are never far from my mind, they no longer dominate.
It's remarkable how quickly regular life returns. I never imagined that I would eventually go a day without thinking of cancer. The thought of it almost always there, but I no longer find myself following up an introduction to to a stranger with, "...and I was diagnosed with breast cancer." Now with a full head of hair, eyelashes and energy, no one would ever know I ever had cancer! I've met dozens of people in recent months who have no idea what I went through. I no longer feel like I "am" cancer, and do not feel the need to explain my ordeal to everyone anymore. I guess this is what happens when the memories fade and life starts to get back to normal.
"New normal," I should say. This is a term we cancer folks like to toss around, probably because it feels funny for us to say things are back to "normal." While I am back to doing "normal" things like filling up the inflatable swimming pool, making grocery lists, fuming about my interview subjects who don't promptly return my phone calls and scheduling haircuts, I'm constantly aware of the fact that life now is completely different than the way it used to be. I never used to think about how old I might be when I die. Now I wonder if I'll make it to 50. Not because I've received any bad news from my doctor, but when you beat cancer at age 38, you wonder how long your luck's going to hold. Sounds morbid, but thoughts like this are pretty common these days.
And while they may seem defeating, they actually bring about a sense of purpose. This may sound trite, but this experience has really made me appreciate life. I've actually felt happier in the past six months than I have in a long time. I'm sure much of this has to do with my happy marriage, great family, caring friends and financial security, but I also attribute it to the realization that life can be short. I doubt I would have every realized this before facing cancer. When I look in the rear view mirror and see Oliver gazing out the window, absently singing along with the radio, I feel a surge of joy. I reach out to friends, schedule lunch dates, send emails, maintain contact. Comfortable shoes bring great happiness. So does a good meal. Sometimes when I'm sitting in the kitchen or walking down the street, I just close my eyes and listen to the sounds of life around me. Life! As Ferris Bueller said, "Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it."
I'm not planning on missing a single moment.
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