A Sad Realization

I've realized that I became the person I least wanted to be, the person who becomes their diagnosis. My daily life was spent thinking about and reacting to chemotherapy. "How do I feel now? Am I too tired to clean the kitchen? Damn this chemo for making me feel so tired." I spent time researching my options, talking to friends about how things were going, talking to absolute strangers about how things were going. People wanted to talk to me and spend time with me because I was sick, because I could die. Now in the absence of chemotherapy and in the face of remission (short or long-term) I feel completely lost. I have no sense of self anymore. What am I if not someone sick from chemo? Who am I if not someone who has cancer? No one calls anymore to see if I'm alright or to grab up every moment of what precious time I have left. I have time on my hands and nothing to fill that time with. I am boring, bored, and completely beside myself with fear and anxiety. I have already been chastised for feeling this way. People who still have cancer, who are still staring into the face of death and trying to beat it away with a stick, have told me to essentially get over it and start living life again. I contend that I was living life more when I was sick then I ever did before or since. I may not be staring death in the face anymore, but it is near-by, a shadow on my mind. It lurks, it waits, and it will be back. No matter how hopeful everyone is about my future I know it will be back. No one has Stage IV breast cancer go into remission indefinitely. But if they are lucky enough to have it go into remission at all they should count their blessings and enjoy it. Right? My death sentence has been temporarily revoked and I should be living my life to the fullest. Right? Not as easy as it sounds. At least not for me.

Birthday

As of 11:30am today I am 29. It's sad, but it means I'm alive so woohoo!

Halloween

I've been thinking about how sad Halloween is these days. Peter and I went out like we usually do to avoid answering the door. Not that there are tons of kids around our place. The ones that do live here go to all the shops and grocery stores for their trick or treating. We walked to a restaurant and as we entered two families with small children in toe entered ahead of us. One couple had their kids dressed up, as a dinosaur and a duck, and the other couple had their kids in their normal clothes. The kids in costume were so young they seemed oblivious. The kids not in costume were scared of the other two. I commented that it seemed kind of silly to spend money on costumes when kids are too young to remember them. Peter said he thought it was for the parents...that dressing up kids in super cute costumes makes up for some of the chaos of day to day dealing with kids. I suppose there's truth in that, and I'm sure I was dressed up in silly costumes that I don't remember. I really feel bad for the kids who go to the stores instead of door to door or who end up trudging through the mall because it's too cold and too scary out there in the real world. I remember how much fun it was to be out with my friends after dark, roaming through the neighborhoods high on sugar. I remember the houses we were afraid to go to and the ones not to be missed and the candy trading at the end. There were years it was so cold we'd pile into our parents' cars every few houses to get warm. There were years that we ran from house to house to escape the rain. Halloween was an adventure, and a parentally sanctioned opportunity to live on the wild side. The rest of the year we were indoors before dark, in bed before 8:00, and were generally supposed to be well behaved tiny members of society. Kids these days are missing out. The mall may be warm and dry and safe, but it isn't a little taste of wild freedom in an otherwise boring life.