Rolling through the Seasons
My mother-in-law brought me a 2008 calendar today, and it occurred to me for the first time that we will soon close the chapter on another year. The days that mark the passage have come and gone again: New Year's Day. Valentine's Day. Mother's Day and Father's Day. 4th of July. Labor Day. Our wedding anniversary. My birthday. Thanksgiving. Only Christmas remains, and it will pass as always in a frenzied flurry of activity and preparation until I'm left breathless and sentimental as we clean up the wrap and the boxes and pack away the decorations until next year.
Next year. It's a luxury that none of us can claim with any assurance. Still, my likelihood of being here a year from now is markedly slimmer than that of most of my peers. Those of you who have read my blog regularly know that every holiday makes me pause to contemplate my future. Will be here this time next year, trimming the tree and hiding gifts in my bedroom closet?
Will I worry about this every holiday (and every ordinary day) for the rest of my life? When will I ever be ready to say that I've had enough of my beautiful life and I'm ready to succumb to the cancer? The answer, of course, is "never". I want to BE here, like everyone else. And I want to have the REASONABLE EXPECTATION of being here, like everyone else.
This is, undoubtedly, the worst part of living with cancer. I can endure the many physical miseries and humiliations, and I can even learn to live with my body's many limitations, but I cannot fathom being cast out off of my little island. It just doesn't seem fair! I don't care to suffer (if I must), but I don't want to die.
I know, I know. I'm a broken record. Yes, but so far, I'm still here, rolling through the seasons with everyone else. For that, I'm truly thankful.
:-) Sharon
Next year. It's a luxury that none of us can claim with any assurance. Still, my likelihood of being here a year from now is markedly slimmer than that of most of my peers. Those of you who have read my blog regularly know that every holiday makes me pause to contemplate my future. Will be here this time next year, trimming the tree and hiding gifts in my bedroom closet?
Will I worry about this every holiday (and every ordinary day) for the rest of my life? When will I ever be ready to say that I've had enough of my beautiful life and I'm ready to succumb to the cancer? The answer, of course, is "never". I want to BE here, like everyone else. And I want to have the REASONABLE EXPECTATION of being here, like everyone else.
This is, undoubtedly, the worst part of living with cancer. I can endure the many physical miseries and humiliations, and I can even learn to live with my body's many limitations, but I cannot fathom being cast out off of my little island. It just doesn't seem fair! I don't care to suffer (if I must), but I don't want to die.
I know, I know. I'm a broken record. Yes, but so far, I'm still here, rolling through the seasons with everyone else. For that, I'm truly thankful.
:-) Sharon
posted by Sharon | 8:40 PM
2 Comments:
Hi Sharon, have been doing research for leiomyosarcoma, my sister was just diagnosed, uterine with mets to lung. Can't treat it here in central Illinois so they want her to go to MD Anderson. Would like to talk with you about this since I know nothing. Is there a way to e-mail you?
Kay
Hello, Kay!
I would be happy to talk with you. My e-mail address is sdleming@charter.net.
:-) Sharon
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