Coming Out the Other Side

March 6…not only is this Tom’s oldest daughter’s (the girls older sister? My step-daughter? Jessica? After all these years, what’s the best way to refer to her?) birthday it’s also the anniversary of my last chemotherapy infusion. Go me.

Let’s be honest. Do I miss it?

No, I do not. I don’t miss the smell that invaded my head the moment the nurse started the infusion. I don’t miss the Benedryl grogginess or the steroid insomnia. I don’t miss the baldness.

But…I miss knowing we were actively fighting cancer. I don’t miss the appointments but I do miss knowing that if I had a concern, I’d been seeing a medical professional in a matter of days.

And this is all at a time when I’m feeling pretty good. Please, God/Universe/karma don’t take this as a challenge. I don’t want to make any statements that might come back and bite me in the ass. But I also want to celebrate these moments when I’m not actively worried about my health.

I mean, duh, I still need to lose an enormous amount of weight but my aches and pains have lessened, my fears are subsiding. Of course, those fears reserve the right to rear their ugly heads at a moment’s notice any time they want.

I recently went to the visitation for the mother of a friend from high school. This woman was lovely. She was always so kind whenever her daughter, C, had friends over. She doted on her husband, who I’m thinking was a pain in the ass kind of husband.

While she was 78 years old, these days, that doesn’t seem all that old to me. She died from lung cancer. She was diagnosed two months ago and chose not to seek treatment.

I get it.

She’d lived with a smoker her entire life. Both of her brothers died from cancer. I know one of them had stomach cancer and I’m not sure about the other.

Sigh.

Cancer sucks so much.

But here I am. Telling my tale. Actually, I’m telling the tales of so many more people than myself. I tell tales that aren’t mine to tell. I apologize in advance as well as for past transgressions of telling stories that aren’t mine to tell.

I’m an over-sharer, it’s been an established trait. The problem, I don’t just over-share about myself. You come into contact with me and I’ll probably over-share about you to someone else.

Sorry.

Seriously.