• Recent Posts

  • Five Year Survivor

    I officially become a statisticAugust 28, 2015
    Five years to the day that I was first diagnosed with stage IV cancer. All survival rates are based on a five year span. Five years today and I'm still here.
  • Tattoo Day!!

    Five Years Cancer FreeJanuary 28, 2016
    When I reach five years with no recurrence, I will be getting a tattoo on my left wrist of a teal and white awareness ribbon with the roman numeral for 5.

Today’s Thoughts….

August 28, 2014 // Four years ago today I went to the GYN doctor. Life was never the same again.

I sometimes wonder how much a person is able to bare. How much the human spirit was designed to handle. Every day of the last four years has been one individual day at a time, nothing before or after it. But on the rare occasions I sit and think over all of them together, I feel as if I’ve been though a nightmare. The type that when you wake up, it is not clear if you are really awake or simply dreaming that you woke, and the bad things are still there, hovering, waiting to attack.

Four years later and I am still alive. That in its self makes me much more fortunate than many. I am grateful.

My body is damaged in ways that will never heal, I will never be ‘normal’ again. I will never be the person I was before. I will never have the life I had before. The future I’d hoped for was stripped away. The future was stripped away. 

Slowly as time passes I ease up a bit, allow myself to think further ahead than the two week limit I put on myself that day four years ago. 

On the rare occasions I think of it all, I wonder how I survived it. I understand physically. I have the scars and other lasting damage to testify to why I am still here.  I wonder how I am still a (relatively) functional, lucid person. How I didn’t break, depart, check out completely. 

Today I should celebrate what some would refer to as my ‘Cancerversary’. But I am in limbo. There is another spot. Too deeply buried behind organs and tissue so damaged by previous radiation to risk trying to biopsy. I may never know for sure. So I wait. If the area grows we assume it has returned and resume treatment. If it does not grow, it hangs over me forever, the bad thing, hovering, waiting to attack.

Thankfully I don’t allow myself to think these thoughts often. I am grateful.

Next Post
Leave a comment

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: