One year ago today, I had my last cancer treatment. The culmination of nine long months of IV poison, surgeries, and radiation burns. Nine months of scans, blood tests, and palpations. Nine months of warnings, advice, commiseration, sympathy. Nine months of losing all my strength and energy while everything I went toward fighting this thing. Nine months of gaining weight because there was nothing I could do to stop it. Nine months of fear, determination, and hope.
Nine months of my life gone.
Often, when I think of things I did before cancer, I forget just how long ago it was, because it really was like losing a year. Now, it's been so long that I've been out of it, it feels like a dream. If it weren't for the wreck my body was left in, I could almost forget it even happened. Of course, there's some emotional baggage that stayed with me, too. Some of it is good, and some of it is bad: I am grateful to be alive and I'm driven like never before to live the life I want and do the things I want to do. But I have more anxiety and nervousness than before. It's even harder to control my emotions and my temper. I blow things out of proportion and am more easily injured.
Overall, though, I'm good. I'm crazy in love with a man who keeps me grounded. I'm happy, I'm having fun, and every day I get a little stronger. I still get wiped out a little too easily so I have to plan how much physical activity I do in a day, but there are worse things to have to deal with. One year ago, I could barely walk a quarter mile without feeling exhausted. Now, I can run/walk 2-3 miles, swim half a mile, do weights for an hour, and even be in a three-hour-long musical. Just not all in one day!
Life is good, and what's nine months in the grand scheme of things?