November 26, 2015
I was all set to publish a post today about my thoughts on Pink-tober. I had it fully typed up and all I needed to do was hit post. I didn't though.
I started having these feelings that it isn't my place to tell you how you should and shouldn't support a cause. Who am I to be preaching? Less then a year ago I had never donated my time, and very little of my money, to any specific organization. And if I bought a breast cancer product, it was by chance.
I have a lot of moments where it hits me that I just had cancer. Those I can't believe it really happened moments. Times where I find myself thinking and acting "normal" again and then feeling like I shouldn't be, because everything changed and I just feel so different on the inside. I can't lie, I feel sorry for myself in these moments. This year I missed out on so many opportunities.
I know deep down I am so grateful for every opportunity my cancer gave me on a fresh start in life but in it's place it also left a permanent heartache. A knowledge that every single day I wake up there will always be some fear and sadness. A naivety that disappeared: the feeling I once had of being invincible is gone now. I am only guaranteed one day at a time and I know that.
I often even think to myself how I have to prepare myself in case the cancer comes back. I never want to feel that same shock I did a year ago. Although I have managed to donate many of my hats, I can't let go of my wig. It provided me with so much strength and a sense of normalcy that I can't bear to part with it just yet.
Many people have come to me recently and told me someone they are close with has been diagnosed with cancer. I have become somebody's hope. The same validation that everything would be okay that I searched for when I was newly diagnosed.
Getting over cancer is almost worse then being diagnosed in the first place. I want to move on with my life but I don't ever want to forget what this year taught me. I don't ever want to forget how this year changed me. This week I had a day where I didn't think about my cancer once. I was too busy! When I finally got to bed, it freaked me out. It's like breaking up with a boyfriend. I have been thinking, dreaming and discussing cancer for a year now. It has been my constant. To suddenly move on is heart wrenching. You force yourself to do it because you know you'll be better off without it but that doesn't change how hard it is.
I had just started back to work after a long and gruelling year of Stage 3B cancer treatment. I remember taking all my hats and donating them to the hospital, but I kept my wig and favourite white hat - “in case I might need them later”.
Sam
