I wrote the following on this day last year. On this day two years ago, life as I knew it changed forever, and 730 days later, I’m still searching for the new normal.
I had every intention of writing a new piece today, to commemorate this auspicious day in history, but after re-reading the 2011 post, I’m going to re-run it. While I fully expected that one year out from diagnosis, things wouldn’t be back to normal–especially considering the circuitous path my cancer “journey” took — I would have expected that by year 2, I’d be done. But alas, with cancer, we are never done. I know this to be true, yet I want it to be different and thus, keep finding myself banging my head against that same wall, while the wily beast that is cancer mocks me. Bastard.
Happy 2-year cancer-versary to me.
To say that a lot has happened in the last year is an utter waste of words. I’m not sure there are words to convey how much has happened in the last year; if there are, they are reserved for better writers than I.
Being diagnosed with cancer at age 40 is a shock. Duh. It’s scary and unexpected and unnerving. Double duh. 40 is when we hit our stride. For me, it meant my kids were old enough to not need constant supervision but to still need my guidance. I’d recently discovered tennis, the new love of my life, and had time and freedom to play often. I had a tight circle of friends who knew who they are and where they want to go. I was very comfortable with…
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