Today is that day, the 1 year mark from the phone call I received letting me know that my biopsy had returned positive for Invasive Ductal Carcinoma.  I remember it all too clearly, sitting there in shock.  Knowing there were thousands of questions I should be asking, but not having the clear brain to even begin to process it all.  I am amazed at how fast this year has gone.

Time flying is good and bad.  It is mostly good for this year, as the treatments and surgeries do not seem like they were long and drawn out.  For that I am grateful.  I am sad by the lost time.  There are days that have blurred into weeks and months.  I could not give you details about certain time periods.  I know days melted together on the couch as I allowed my body to sleep and heal from all the torments I put it thru.  These treatments were of course my choice, and I am hoping this lost year has bought me many years in the future.  That is a fair price.

Friends and family have come and gone.  Everyone rallies around you in the beginning or runs for the hills.  Cancer scares people.  Whether it is from thinking it is contagious, making them aware of their own mortality, or simply not knowing what to say or do, it certainly makes most uncomfortable.  And what seemed to have been a dramatic journey to follow on posts, has lost its glimmer and glam.  I have found a new family, one of truly empathetic sisters.  Women who have walked my walk and know this from the inside.  Those bonds will never break and cannot be taken from me like other relationships have. 

I am still not sure how I feel about all this as my active treatment has ended and my next phase begins.  I have moments of glee and times of deep darkness.  For me, the need to structure the early chaos and the all consuming appointments actually gave me something to focus on, something to work towards, steps that I knew needed following.  Now there is vagueness to my day, no structure around the cancer center, not seeing my doctors for weeks at times.  That all seems a little scary right now.  Who is watching over me and my wrecked body?

I keep making plans to start rebuilding my life, job, house, relationships, and body.  But each evening I get home, I am still so tired, I don’t always do my physical therapy exercises, or even brush my teeth before bed for that matter!  My brain tells me how important all these things are, but my body and heart still say not today.  Maybe tomorrow will be the day.

I find it so difficult to get the words of how I feel down, yet the urge to get it out continues.  Writing can also be therapeutic and cathartic.  Here’s to hoping this helps with tomorrow.