Today's blog brought to you by the letter "C"

Sometimes, I forget.

Like today, I was cleaning the bathroom and scrubbing the sink.  I remembered something to add to the grocery list and ran downstairs, and there's my husband so I tell him I love him and kiss his cheek, and I run back upstairs and finishing scrubbing, then decide to wash the bathroom rugs and throw them down the laundry chute, and I'm standing there and I know I've forgotten something but I can't remember what it is...

I forgot about it.  For a moment, it was gone.

Right now it's easy to forget.  My left breast is tender, not just from the excisional biopsy, but over the top and down towards my armpit.  Once in a while I feel a really sharp, stabbing pain near the top.  I suppose that could mean something.  Most likely what it means is that my breast was cut open and my little lump was removed and there is healing happening.  That makes sense.

But when my breast doesn't hurt, I sometimes forget.  I know as I move further into treatment it will be harder to forget, because it will become so much a part of my everyday life.  But it - this cancer - won't define me.  It is not me.  It is simply a part of me, for right now - but I'll be damned if it's going to hang around for very long.

Two nights ago, I had a dream.  My friend Kirsta and I were visiting friends, many of our favorite child welfare buddies (Cheryl and Jean and Veda and Jeanne were there!)  They all wore these beautiful royal and light blue flowing robes - almost choir-like - and were warm and welcoming and loving (as always!)  I had to go outside and let the dog out of the trunk of my car (don't ask me why I had a dog in the trunk of my car).  As I opened the lid the dog - a medium-sized brown mutt with a jet-black muzzle - leapt at me and bit my left forearm.  I'm looking down at this dog and I see his razor-like teeth, which sink deeper into my arm.  It hurts - I swear I can feel it in my dream!  His eyes are so dark and he smiles as he bites me even harder.  I'm flailing and screaming and this dog just keeps sinking his teeth even further into my arm, and I keep looking him in the eyes and he just isn't going to let go.  Suddenly another dog appears - huge and soft and round and friendly and sweet, and he grabs the dog on my arm and shakes him and magically, the smaller dog lets go of my arm!  The big dog literally trots off like a puppy with this howling, wrenching cur in his teeth, and I'm left looking at my mangled, bloody arm.  I hurt, I am in pain, I am scarred for life, but I am alive.  And I hear my friends behind me, singing like a host of heavenly angels, and I realize that nothing else matters but the fact that I'm standing in that very spot, having survived a possibly deadly attack.  I woke feeling so happy and peaceful and beautiful and loved.

I do not need a copy of Freud's Interpretation of Dreams to figure that one out.

So sometimes I will forget, and I'm happy when I do.  But it's okay when I remember, too, and it doesn't make me sad.  It just makes it real - for now.  Because one day, that fucking dog, determined to bite my arm off, is going to be carried away by the treatments that will save my life.  I may be bruised and bloody and scarred when it's over, but I'll be alive.

And in the end, that's all that really matters.