Two Years

Around this time two years ago, the employees in the plant where I worked were assembled and informed that Corporate was closing our facility. We were told that by December 31, we would all be out of a job. They told us that we’d receive a ‘stay bonus’ if we continued to work until December 31. We’d get a severance package whether we stayed or not. That would include a week’s worth of pay for every year of service we had with the company.

I’d sensed the coming of this announcement. There were just too many meetings taking place behind closed doors, super stealth whispering going on, weird phone called with doors being closed.

I was also a little preoccupied by the pain in my left breast. I’d seen my regular doctor by this point two years ago and he was all about waiting and seeing.

I was also seeing a doctor about my stupid left foot. I’d been diagnosed with tendonitis and plantar fasciitis. Whee, my left side is a real disaster zone.

I’d just recently decided that waiting and seeing about that weird pain was a bad idea. I hadn’t actually seen my gynecologist yet but I was psyching myself up to make the call. Each night, I’d promise myself that if the pain was still there the next morning, I’d call.

We all know that I did finally call.

I’m edging in on my one year anniversary at my new/current job. It’s fine. I’ve had a couple of good reviews with my immediate supervisor as well as the lady with whom I work the most closely. So…that’s good, right? I don’t want to be stupid and say something like, “Yeah, it’s going great!” because yeah, we all know the universe is just waiting to slap people who say things like that right the hell down.

I just…keep waiting for the next thing to happen.

I mean, right? Isn’t that the way things have been for a while?

Every time management closes a door, I think, “Here it comes.”

Each time I have an appointment with a doctor, I wonder, “Will this be the time the give me bad news again?”

I know, logically, that the odds of that happening are slim. But…the odds of getting triple negative breast cancer at 46 years old were slim too. So forgive me for feeling a little stressed sometimes.

For anyone googling post-cancer life, I’d like to mention that the side effects of chemo and radiation are mostly gone. Last summer I could feel the rays of the sun on my skin, like little pin pricks all over any exposed skin. This summer, nothing. It’s all good. I don’t seem to burn any more easily than I did before radiation.

At my most recent dental cleaning, my hygienist said that my dry mouth is abating. It’s still there, but getting better. I’d noticed that too. My skin has bounced back.

Hair still doesn’t grow under my left arm, but I’m most certainly not complaining about that one.

Heck, even the lymphedema is responding well to the exercise and self-massage prescribed by the physical therapist. So really life is going well.

Hey, universe? Please don’t see that last sentence as an invitation to punch me in the face, kay? I know how lucky I am. I say thanks every single day for everything that I have, everything that I am. I know it could all be snatched from me in an instant. And maybe that’s what I’m so tentative to believe that all’s well.

Because what if tomorrow it’s not?