This is a story about cancer. Weirdly, I’m starting a blog after, what I hope is, the end of my treatment journey with Stage IV ovarian cancer. Initially, I figured I’d finish treatment, close that excruciating chapter in my life ASAP, and MOVE ON. I didn’t imagine it would be less simple than that.
Cancer has drastically changed my world view. Even now, 18 months after finishing treatment, my mind is not the same as it was. My perspective is not the same as it was. My body is not the same as it was. I think you get what I’m saying…
What I’m NOT saying is that I’m unhappy. On the contrary, I am more blissfully happy than ever, and I was pretty darn happy before cancer crashed my party, but everything is different now–not worse and, if anything, better than ever, just different. I’ve been seeing my life in colors recently: I was telling my therapist the other day that my life pre-cancer was lavender, and my life post-cancer is eggplant. Does that make sense?
I’m still coming to terms with, and taking stock of all the changes. A lot of times, I’ll be walking down the street, and something will hit me out of the blue, and I’ll be completely bowled over with amazement. When that happens, the need to share my revelation takes hold. Life is so full of endless, tiny nuances that were removed from my experience during the year that I was sick. You know, fighting for your life doesn’t leave room to process and absorb much else. I think a lot of people take those tiny nuances for granted. I know I did. I see them now, though, and let me tell you, they give depth to human existence, and they can be absolutely STUNNING!
To date, I’ve been doing most of my communicating via Facebook, but that can be tiresome for my much cherished friends and family. They love me and everything, but you have to be in the mood to tolerate overly introspective or just plain weird posts that pop up in your newsfeed unannounced–from the darker, slightly more morbid, slightly more gore and bodily function-obsessed, slightly more googly-eyed version of Me. I think about death at least once a day now, and I often replay the events of my illness in my head (usually when it’s quiet, or when I’m driving or walking somewhere). Chalk it up to processing an extremely traumatic life event, I guess. It’s a lonely feeling, to carry that experience and those memories around, and keep them all to myself. Cancer happened, and I feel compelled to talk about it. I want people who care about me to know what I went through. I’d also like to believe that maybe by sharing my experiences, I could help others in some way?
I’m a different girl than I used to be, and The New Girl needed a blog. Come hang out, if you want!