I have started and stopped many blog posts since I last wrote. Nothing quite stuck. Nothing quite seemed right.
It has almost been a year since my cancer diagnosis.
There are so many fragments in my memories from this past year. Some things stand out more than others. You’d think it is the terrible procedures, treatments, and surgeries I had to experience.
More often, to be honest, I reflect more on the events aside from those.
I am all too aware that I fall back onto my snarky and sarcastic sense of humor. It’s a defense mechanism that conceals a great deal of hurt, but it has helped ease the blow. I still swing it over my shoulders and carry it with me day to day.
I’m surprised almost daily to come across other survivors and friends and family members of survivors. It’s a bit like joining a club where its members only understand the lingo.
There is a bittersweet irony of cancer survival. Yes, my treatment is over and I happy dance over this. However, I am all too aware of the potentially rocky future I face after the fact.
There is a fine line between living for the moment and living to preserve one’s self. Where does spontaneity and relishing the small things fit in? Do I think for now? Or do I think for the future? Is it possible to balance both?
I have a more formal sense of survival. Survival not only in health, but also as a global citizen, as an adult, as a perpetual student of life.
It’s so easy to view the world as cruel, but it is defeatist and all encompassing. If darkness is the night sky we see, then the moments of clarity, love, and positive thoughts are the stars that punctuate it. They might seem small and insignificant, but they are everywhere.
