The end of this road

On November 22, 2011 our breast cancer journey began with my official diagnosis.  Today, with my final radiation treatment, our journey has officially ended.  No one uses the word “cured,” but instead I am considered NED – No Evidence of Disease. 

Paul Tejada Radiation Oncology Center

Got me my final walking papers!

No Boob Fairy this time - just me and my sweetie waiting for the doctor.

I expect to be dating NED – with Ken’s blessing, I’m sure – for many, many, MANY years to come.

It’s been a long eight months.  And back in November I didn’t know that I would struggle at times but that overall my experience would be better than many.  I couldn’t imagine that the fear would dissipate, that I would find joy and blessings in the darkest of moments, and that my soul would recover along with my body.  I couldn’t believe that I’d ever be here, on this spot, with surgeries and chemo and radiation behind me.

But here I am, on the Other Side and feeling human again, normal and useful, and looking forward and ahead to what the rest of my (long) life has to offer.

No journey is ever complete without the proverbial Life Lessons along the way.  Those are always good - but useless if unrecognized.  I wanted very much to spend this time taking notice of my life - but I got a little sidetracked by shiny objects (like needles), or sometimes simply forgot (thanks, Chemo Brain).

I know that I let a lot of people down.  I lived by the motto, “I make plans, not promises,” but that doesn’t mean that people’s feelings weren’t hurt along the way.  I had good intentions that sometimes went wrong – or were simply forgotten – and that bothers me.  I can't make up for those moments, but I am working to let it go and move forward.  I know that those who love me will understand; those who don't understand will hopefully talk to me so we can resolve it.  

People said a lot of interesting things to me along the way, too - none of which I took personally or felt hurt by.  I was simply happy that people were talking to me, instead of not talking to me at all.  It would have been easier to try and ignore what was going on or pretend it wasn't happening.  I have been guilty of that myself in the past, even recently.  Words like "cancer" tend to bring up really uncomfortable and scary feelings and maybe memories, and sometimes it's overwhelming to deal with.  I had to first deal with my own fears, and then realize that others may have had their own fears, too.  

At the same time, I lost some friends along the way, too – some through the front door, others through a back window.  It took me a while to fully understand that it wasn't about me, but it still hurt.  In the end I can now honestly say I wish them well and send them love and peace in their own journeys.

I played the Cancer Card, but only in jest.  I never wanted nor expected to be the center of attention, and was often really uncomfortable with the kindness shown by others.  I decided to sit with those feelings for a while to understand why I didn't feel worthy of being recognized...and I ended up in an abyss of self-therapizing that I eventually abandoned because I was driving myself further into therapy.  Sometimes, a cigar is just a big old smelly burny thing that no one really wants around.  And sometimes, we feel things that we have to get over because it's not necessarily about us, it's about others.  

I was supported both near and far by many wonderful friends, and made new friends along the way, too.  None of you realize how much every kind word, every thought, every prayer, every card or hug meant to me.  The energy and positivity helped me on really awful days.  I learned that I am loved - something I knew, but now I know.  I hope you know that you have been with me in my heart every step of the way.  You - yes YOU! 

My family has been the biggest support (and my most vocal cheerleaders!!).  My parents, my sisters, our children, our grandchildren, my in- and out-laws have loved me and cared for me in countless ways.  I was surprised on more than one occasion by visits from afar, always when I needed them the most. 

My relationship with Ken is stronger than ever before, in ways I never could have imagined.  He truly is my rock, my partner, and my best friend.  I never could have finished treatment without him by my side - not because I needed the help, but because my heart needed his encouragement and faith.  He never made me feel guilty for being too tired or in pain or angry or frustrated or simply sick.  He wanted nothing more than for me to get through treatment and come out healthy and alive on the other side.

I found strength in myself that I didn’t know I had (or could have), and determination and resolve that I will carry with me from now on.  I appreciate my life as it is because of its flaws and imperfections, not in spite of them.  Nothing is as important as the interactions and relationships with others; time spent is never time wasted.  Every moment is an opportunity to share a story, a kiss, a dream, a walk. 

Now, today, this particular journey ends - but that means a new journey begins!  I am choosing to leave this cancer behind me, and move forward not as Cancer Girl but as the chick with the cute new 'do.  I doubt that cancer will ever be far from my mind, and I admit that I am already worried about Life After Treatment.  But I can't move forward if I'm stuck in this spot, and so I need to actively let go of What Has Been, and work towards What Will Be.  For me, that means making a few significant changes - in particular, this will be my final blog entry.  I may update it from time to time, if something significant happens, but I need a break (and I'll bet you do, too).   I am going take a vacation, clean my basement, paint my kitchen cabinets, work on my article for publication, run and do yoga, date my husband, play with my grandchildren, and live my life.

Lucy and I need to start healing, and we can't do that in Breastlandia.  It's time to take a new step forward.  So I end this part of my journey - and this part of my blog - the same way I began, with a little twist:

I had cancer, but it did not have me.