It may not be evident from reading my posts, since they’re usually written about cancer, but I actually don’t think about my disease very much. I go about my daily routine without any thoughts about my health. There are those times, however, when I’m likely to think about it more. November is one of those times, for it marks the anniversary of when I found out I had cancer.
Those initial days three years ago come flooding back, and I once again relive the anxiety, the doctors’ visits, the tests, the biopsy, the diagnosis, the fear. I’ve written in previous posts that, although this is uncomfortable, self-reflection is necessary for each of us because it is important to remember where we’ve been in order to see how far we’ve come. This November, a new feeling is being added to the list – that of victory – and that is the real topic of this entry.
When I was first diagnosed, I told my doctors I didn’t want to hear statistics, like survival rates, and I decided that I wouldn’t ask any questions to which I really didn’t want to hear the answer. This wasn’t denial, mind you. I just didn’t want a self-fulfilling prophecy lurking in the deep corners of my mind. And then I asked a question.
When I was told I was terminal in March 2015, I asked how much time I had. I felt it was a practical question – knowing how much time I had to get my affairs in order. The answer was that the average length of survival for someone in my condition was 18-20 months. Right there and then, I put an expiration date on myself. Even though I didn’t think about it often, it was there, looming like the countdown clocks that read “32 days till Christmas.” Well, guess what? It’s 20 months later and I don’t feel like I’m going anywhere any time soon. In fact, I feel a sense of freedom, of achievement, of happiness by reaching this page on the calendar. I feel like I’ve beaten some odds. I’ve torn off that expiration label, and a new one will not take its place.
It’s made me ponder how often we must go through life listening to things people tell us (or even the things we say to ourselves) and then end up letting those things define who we are. I’m making a choice at this point to get rid of any “best by [insert date]” labels in my life, especially one that suggests how much time I may have on this Earth. Only the Great Physician knows that. I will no longer feel shackled by an approaching date on the calendar, even if those shackles are not always foremost in my thoughts. Perhaps November will be a time of self-reflection for you as well – a time for you to get rid of any labels you have and approach the holidays fetter-free.
As this Thanksgiving draws near, I give thanks for those of you who read and comment on this blog; my family and friends; my hands-on caregivers; and, the distant caregivers who give support through their thoughts, love, and prayers. I am so grateful for all my blessings. Here’s to a Happy Thanksgiving – and one without labels.
Share the strength.