Remnants of a previous life.

Thoughts on life before the disease of cancer

Last week I opened a bathroom drawer I had paid little attention to since my cancer diagnosis 2.5 years ago. The collection of hair ties, hair clips, and cough drops may as well have been a snake for its shock value. I had tucked them away for my long haired kiddos and friends and well, you never know when you’ll need a cough drop.

These objects felt like remnants of another life.

I prepared myself for the onslaught of emotions, the pre-cancer memories, the wishing things were different, the “how did I get here” voice in my head. The pity party that was sure to start momentarily.

It didn’t come.

Which is a sign of progress I think:)

According to the medical world, there are 5 stages of grief and cancer: Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression and Sadness, and finally Acceptance. In my case there were only 2: Fear and Depression that comes in rolling waves, never a stage or a phase. Is it possible that I’ve reached a 3rd stage - Acceptance? Or is this me repressing the fact that this disease lives with me forever?

I call it progress because there was a time when a simple drawer full of hair ties or a conversation that included the word “someday” would have taken me out for a few hours and sometimes a few days (hello fear and depression). To be honest, I don’t miss the long hair at all. My new short pixie is one of the best things to come out of this diagnosis. I don’t even really miss the life before cancer that those hair ties represent. I still have that life, I still do most of those things, I still love and am loved by those people. What I miss terribly is my naivete. My assumption that I would sail off into the sunset as an old Grandma in my 80’s. My expiration date arriving only after I had lived a “long and beautiful” life. I miss that.

I’m not sure progress will ever = acceptance for me. The Oxford Dictionary tells me the definition of acceptance is “willingness to tolerate a difficult or unpleasant situation”. I’m not much for tolerating this disease. I have continual hope for remission, for new treatments, and for miracles. I work at making my life today as beautiful as it was, in some cases better than before. Tolerating? No.

I wonder…is progress the gift of perspective? Or is it the deep in your soul gratitude that comes with facing your own mortality?

Did you ever make a gratitude list or have a gratitude journal? Maybe this is part of your morning practice or what you do every now and then to pull yourself out of a slump. I remember listening to Rachel Hollis a million years ago, her encouragement to write down 5 things each day I am grateful for. I tried. My list looked something like this:

• My warm cup of coffee

• Quiet time this morning

• A roof over my head

• Sunshine today!

• A fun weekend with my family

Each list was some sort of variation of this until I just got sick of myself and my surface gratitude that immediately passed when it was time to feed the hangry kids.

I have one gratitude list now, no need to write it daily because it doesn’t change. It’s imprinted on me like a tattoo, but not the tramp stamp kind. Here’s just a few things on my list that are on repeat:

• I feel good enough today to be a cute, happy person out in the world. (And if I’m not feeling good enough to be cute and happy out in the world I get to be in my pajamas at home without the stress of a job or other obligations).

• I am married to a man that I have loved since I was 14 years old.

• My kids like me and want to spend time with me.

• I have a small and very close circle of friends that I love and that love me.

• I get to see my 80 year old mom at the gym a few times a week and sometimes she comes for dinner.

I’m left to wonder, can you get that spiritual, absolute knowing gratitude without a crisis serving it up on a platter? I sure hope so. I hope you sail off into the sunset as an old Grandma/pa feeling that kind of gratitude all the way to your toes.

K. Be Good.

xo