Six years ago this summer I was battling breast cancer. I try to
treat this season with a lot of respect. Not that I want to remember all
that hell– rather, I want to try to remember what I got from it. And what I got from it, besides hair loss, bad gums, and scars as long as my arms, is still to be determined. So far I can say that every day, really every moment I am alive, compounds on the one before and makes me truly grateful that I still get to be here. But still it’s easy to forget, even after an ordeal like breast cancer, how horrible it all was. I think it’s easy for anyone to forget their past battles of pain, whatever they may be, as they struggle to find their new place in the world. With cancer they call it your “new normal”. So far my new normal has a lot of patience in it. It steps up when I get mad at myself and begin really beating myself up–as only I can do– and says “hey, lady, would you rather be dead?” I know that sounds morbid, but honestly, a cancer diagnosis makes me go there. It makes me look at myself in a mirror–even years after that awful time–and wonder how long that reflection will still be here. So this season, and every season, I look at myself and thank my lucky stars that I found that lump. And I purposely march myself up to my reflection in any mirror I can find and say thank you that it still stares back at me–6 years later and counting.