Friday, May 25, 2012

Passage of Time

we survived birthday #5
On this day, the eve of May 26, two years to the day from when I was informed of the grapefruit-sized mass in my chest, I have the day off.  Not because I called in sick, not because I was fired, but just by chance, I have the day (or what's left of it) to reflect and also busy myself with the errands and tasks I've been unable to get to all week (month?) long.

no joke.
It's been a busy May.  Judah turned 5, which is just nuts.  We registered him and oriented him for kindergarten.  We celebrated him (again and again - the gifts just keep on coming), and then we celebrated me for Mother's Day at the blissful Ocean City beach.  We got a new car (finally), went to Pittsburgh to celebrate my father-in-law's birthday.  I chaperoned Judah on his last pre-school field trip.  Finally, we are back in town until further notice and I'm just trying to breathe at a regular pace.

best mother's day ever

My hair is looking more normal, especially when it's not 100% humidity and 80 degrees outside.  Living in a temperate climate makes life so exciting, right?  And so it's strange to look in the mirror and begin to see myself again.  After two years of uncertainty, of baldness, of weight loss and weight gain, of fear and shock and grief and anger, sadness and pain, the clouds are starting to pass.  It's a peculiar feeling, that you can un-inhabit your body and then rejoin yourself after a time.

green machine
I'm back on a sugar-free kick and feeling okay.  The wet and wild weather does nasty things for my ever inflamed lungs, but I do think that the lack of refined sugar in my diet helps a little bit.  And if I can shed a couple of pounds in the process, well, there are worse things.  It's my little slice of control in this wacky world, being able to dictate what goes into my body.

Two years ago I was blind to the future.  When I think about myself on 5/26/2010, sitting in my doctor's office, hearing words I couldn't comprehend, I had no idea.  I just had no clue what was coming.  And now I feel so sad and pitiful for that very unknowing girl.  Sad and scared.  10 minutes before, I was just looking for some allergy meds to stop the itching.  Literally in an instant, all of our lives were changed.  The before and after are so starkly different and yet, it's still me here.

 *SIDENOTE:  Like my therapist says, there are still two things you never ask a woman: Are you pregnant?  or Are you [still] trying to get pregnant?  Both are completely off limits, thank you very much, no matter how close you may think you are to the woman.  Hard to believe that some people cannot grasp the concept of some information being private (even for ME).  "How are you doing?" will suffice.

I hope you'll join me as I continue to make an effort to stay present in this next chapter (year 3).  Enjoy moments as they are happening without projecting and predicting the future.  Tell people you love them and have dance parties in the kitchen.

Thanks for sticking with me..
these are for you



  1. Mia,

    Congrats for making it so strongly to two years out!! These anniversaries are so strange-so wonderful because of their very existence, but also so nostalgic, and it's hard to not long for the person you were before cancer ever came into your life. But I'm glad you're beginning to feel more like yourself (or maybe a stronger version of yourself!) Sometimes I too have to remind myself that it's still me here.

    Thanks for sharing your thoughts and pictures! Also, your hair looks CUTE!

  2. My 2 year mark is coming up too. Somedays I can't believe I've almost made it. What a journey it was.
    I'm trying to embrace the new fuller, stronger, and more emotional me. I'm off my depression meds which I am proud of.
    I understand the pregnancy comment, hoping I will get to experience it again but also scared to death that the c word would return. Well, I just gotta keep living as though there is only today.
    I enjoy your thoughts. Have a wonderful summer, Mia!
    Laura Virtue