A normal life

Cancer takes a lot of time.

From diagnosis to the end of radiation was 9 months.  Followed by follow-up visits with the breast surgeon, the medical oncologist, the radiation oncologist, the plastic surgeon.  Also the nurse manager for the clinical trial I'm in.  Then a few months off.  Then the next round of follow-ups.

In between that there have been scans and visits to discuss the scans for the worrisome symptoms I've had.

And in between that, there was the lymphedema diagnosis and visits with a physical therapist to get it under control.

And, in between all that there is the usual family and work and life.

But today, I am just grateful.  My daughter is hanging out with friends and then getting together for a for a club she's in and basically doing things that don't revolve around me and cancer.  My husband and I are discussing Thanksgiving and what to do instead of smoking a turkey on the grill because the weather will be too cold to want to spend the time outdoors.  The dishes need washing and I have laundry to fold.  Library books to return.  Shopping lists to make and groceries to buy.   Life is gloriously normal.

It's exactly the kind of life I dreamed of when I was going through the cancer stuff.  It was the goal that kept me going when I was sick of surgical drains, sick of chemo or sick of driving daily for radiation.  

I'm not the kind of person who likes a lot of attention in real life.  Cancer was hard in that way--I don't like to stick out or call attention to myself and having cancer makes that a lot harder to manage.

On the other hand, although I don't like to handle attention, I also don't like to have people minimize what the cancer was.  I hate talking about it, but inside I somehow also don't want anyone to forget about it (well, formerly inside, now everyone on the internet can know how I feel!).  So that gets weird sometimes.

I don't know for sure, but I suspect it's very normal.  And if not, I'm still ok with it, right now, at least.  If it gives me trouble later on, I may be less ok with it, but my guess is it's a reasonable part of moving forward.

I'm not likely to ever be the kind of person who says that "cancer made me a better person" or "I am so grateful for the cancer."  For the record, I am not grateful for cancer.  I hate cancer like a son of a bitch.  Really.  I do.

But, I do think it did change me in some ways, and I think part of my struggle with wanting the ordeal understood and not wanting to ever let on about the ordeal is recognizing that it has changed me in ways that aren't as obvious as my "pixie" haircut and lymphedema glove and sleeve.

I hope to get a little better at reconciling the two as time goes on and I think that the act of writing about it might help.

And for now, while I enjoyed order and normalcy before cancer, I find it even more satisfying these days.  It's a relief to be back to it.  Cancer took and continues to take time from me on an ongoing basis, irrespective of whatever time it may or may not shave off the end.  But, while it changed some things, it didn't change everything.

When I was in the thick of treatments, a return to my regular life was one of the big things I held on to as my prize for getting through it all.  Now that it's here, it is pretty darn good.  Even the "new me" thinks so.

(And, not to worry, I'm not sure what's next for posting, but I'm pretty sure if nothing else, it will be less introspective than the last few posts, I promise!)