This year (e.g. holy-fuck-THIS-year)
I was hoping to slide into 43, celebrating, being done with this year that has floored me, surprised me, stunned me. Sometimes, I look back at all that has happened and I am left breathless, no words in me to fathom all that has occurred.
And yet, here we are. Another year, another trip around the sun. I am still here. My body missing parts, my heart expanded.
Instead of celebrating this year, I am laid low with a cold, or maybe the flu. And I have more blood work scheduled, and an echocardiogram. And more CT scans. So, on top of feeling shitty, it all isn’t done. Because, as my therapist reminded me recently, ‘you are till a cancer patient, after all’.
But, here’s the thing when you’re a ‘cancer patient’ (picture me saying that with air quotes, because that’s how I feel about that) – when you get sick, even a cold, it brings up every fear in you. Not a hypochondriac by nature, it is hard to sustain this level of fear and concern. Will this cold impact my immune system? Is my immune system impacted by my ‘situation’? Does this over-the-counter drug interact with my daily meds? Could this cold have bigger impacts on my health? How are my lungs doing?
Blah blah blah. Don’t worry – I, too, am bored thinking and talking about my health.
Instead, let’s leave it here. 42 was a fucking doozy. And let’s hope that 43 brings all the good, and leaves behind some of this struggle.
But, even with all this struggle… and it was some hard shit, it was the most glorious year in so many ways. Here’s to finding the light, even through the messiness.
And celebrating all that there is to celebrate — good friends and family who showed up for me this year in ways that continue to floor me; beautiful sunrises and sunsets; a walk in the woods; and finding and being in sweet, amazing love.