4 years ago in January, I found out I had breast cancer. I won’t retell the whole story, but it’s here if you are curious or a new reader.
I cannot believe everything that has happened in the last 4 years – I don’t even recognize my life anymore: the store is gone, my husband died, we moved…. none of it has to do with the cancer specifically, but it does seem like the dominoes haven’t stopped falling since that year.
I will never not be afraid that it will come back. I don’t care how reassuring you are trying to be, I will wake up in a cold sweat at least once a week, usually more, and wonder if that ache I feel, that little pinch, if any of it is the cancer coming back. My 6 month check-up is over due by almost 2 months, scheduling conflicts. I’m going next week and I’m terrified. I have no reason to think anything is wrong, though I did have a scare a little while back. But a friend’s relapse this past weekend has hit me right in the gut – I am heartbroken for her, and yes, selfishly, I am absolutely terrified the same thing could happen to me….. There is so much more riding on my health now – I’m the only one left, the only parent, it’s a lot of weight to carry. The fear doesn’t hold me back: I’ve moved mountains in those 4 years and I get up everyday and I keep moving and making and doing, all to make a good life for my girls. But the fear is always there.
If wish I was one of those positive people, the ones who move onward and upward and don’t look back, but I’m not. I’m not made that way. The fear I live with is deep and permanent. I don’t think it will ever go away. Between my family history and the odds, it’s just something I have to be realistic about. But every January is one more year, and so here we are, 4 years from that long day when I knew deep in my heart….
But I am alive, I am here, I am ok. And I will keep moving mountains, even if I have to carry that fear with me as I do it.