As I mentioned in a previous post, it’s now been three years since my breast cancer diagnosis. It’s been three years since the shit hit the fan, or to put it more delicately, since the dominoes starting toppling.
Actually, the domino effect began in 2004 when my mother was diagnosed, but there are only so many dominoes one can keep track of, right?
This year the exact date (April 29th) came and went very quietly. I’ve since been waiting for some profound words to pop into my head that I could eagerly share with you, but so far, nothing much is coming to me…
Where the heck is the great life lesson anyway?
This year I didn’t talk about that day; in fact, I didn’t even mention it in passing to dear hubby (and I don’t think he remembered, which, by the way, is just fine with me). I’m not even entirely sure why I didn’t bring it up.
Did I think about my diagnosis this year on that date?
You bet I did, but I did so by myself.
It’s almost like I’m tiptoeing around now – trying to walk quietly through survivorship.
I’m sure this is partly because this is what’s now expected of me. I’m supposed to move on. I’m supposed to be done. I have and I am; sort of. But I will never be done. For more thoughts on why many who are diagnosed with breast cancer feel they are never done, read this post by friend and fellow blogger, Beth Gainer – Calling the Shots.
Will I feel less apprehensive when I reach four years out, then five, then dare I say it, ten or more?
Probably; at least I hope so.
But this is Cancer Land.
My mother’s cancer recurred at 3.75 years post her diagnosis. Maybe this is why I tiptoe.
My friend and fellow blogger Jody, of Women With Cancer, was diagnosed with metastatic breast cancer merely days ago – fifteen years after her initial diagnosis. Yes, I said fifteen years! Maybe this is why I tiptoe.
Approximately 155,000 Americans are presently living with metastatic breast cancer and some 70,000 more are being “inducted” into this community every year. This is despite so much focus on awareness and all the pink hoopla. Maybe this is why I tiptoe.
There are still roughly 40,000 deaths due to metastatic breast cancer annually in the United States alone and close to half a million world-wide. Maybe this is why I tiptoe.
I do not live in fear.
I will not live in fear.
While it’s certainly true, each minute that passes since that day means there is more distance between then and now; admittedly, it’s also true that I still feel more than a bit wounded. I still live with the reality things can change in an instant.
Really, we all do though, right? Cancer or no cancer, life offers no guarantees to anyone.
I am more than content and very grateful to keep on tiptoeing.
Have you noticed a domino effect since your diagnosis?
Do you ever feel as if you are “tiptoeing through survivorship”?