Take a Hike 2008; Don't Let the Door Hit You on the Way Out
Posted May 12 2009 6:15pm
I'm not being overly mean to 2008 am I? Everybody agrees it was a stinker year. Like I always say, nothing like a dose of the bad to make you appreciate the good.
So, this is the blog entry where I get to look over the whole cancer experience from the past year and say profound things. Ummm ... nothing profound comes to mind.
When I started this blog, I was staring death in the face (warning: do not try that at home or anywhere else for that matter). I had no idea what I was in for. To tell you the truth, I thought that maybe my blog would serve as a good record of my thoughts for my kids to read after I died. I never knew what my own Mom was thinking as she fought and lost her battle with cancer, so I wanted to be as open and honest for what was to come so they would know that no matter what happened, I was okay.
Thing is, now that I look back, it just wasn't all that life shattering. I had a heck of a time with my medical staff and my insurance, but in the end that all worked out. I was totally freaked out that I would wake up after my mastectomy and have a *major* freak out, but I awoke to realize that I was just fine. I did learn a lot about the people around me: who ultimately steps up, who doesn't, the things people say, who I can count on and who I can't. That was a big one. I found out what amazing stuff my daughters are made of. Another big one.
In 2008 cancer was a good teacher. It changed my life for the better. I am softer, kinder, gentler. While I have to wait for the five year mark to officially claim that I am cured, I already know that I am. So, what's to say about that? It is what it is, not good or bad, just is. A short, meaningful encounter. Kinda like a 6-month stand.
Guess like the blog says at the very top up there, I can check cancer off my list and get on with my life. I am thankful it turned out that way.
How I can ever thank you, all of you, is something I will never be able to do adequately. Just know you'll always be able to count on me. Cancer taught me that together we can do anything.