2:18 p.m. - 2010-09-02
reflection in a dusty mirror
It is one year and two days since I got my diagnosis. I have been thinking of this benchmark for a week now, rolling it over in my tiny, tiny brain like an unpleasant tasting lozenge.
In so many ways I know I am stronger for the past 12 months, and in so many ways I have been chastising myself for not making more changes in my life.
I should eat better, exercize more, take bigger risks, do things I want to do. Am I wasting this life lesson or only using it to punish myself more.
Yes, I know I had it easy - I avoided chemo this time, and though I felt sorry for myself after three surgerys in five weeks, my physical scarring isn't so bad. The tamoxifen isn't so bad, though I have more hair now than I know what do with.
I don't really talk about it much, and I never had to go through the pitiful looks (because there were no outward signs that I had cancer or was in treatment.) But I feel like I should have a badge, or that there should be a secret handshake or something to acknowledge to each other what we've been through. Honestly, I know I didn't suffer much physically. The worst parts were feeling that I had given this huge and worrying burden to my family, especially to Andy who was truly crushed and afraid when he found out. And of course, my poor parents who had to deal with two of their children going through surgery and treatment.
Do I have to figure out a way to make this useful? To strengthen the fabric of my soul? Or can I just move on, knowing that one of my rougher edges was caused by this?
Oddly, I feel no great compunction to support breast cancer programs (I've always donated and volunteered, I'm just not doing "more" of it now.) But I do feel like I should do more for Leukemia and Lymphoma research since that is what my brother had/has.
And for now, that's what I got.
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