So
many times I thought I’d never make it to the point of writing a “post cancer”
blog entry. But here I am and it feels wonderful.
Thank
you all for the tremendous support in the form of a shoulder to cry on, a
listening ear to my fears and concerns, blog post comments of encouragement, cards,
gifts, texts, bath soaps on my doorstep, emergency dog care on surgery day, vegan
baked goods, the softest homemade pink post-surgical pillow, a new Vitamix (omg?!),
a ladybug hat, a personalized giant gift basket, homemade vegan soups, a book
on amazing crows, a Webster family cancer package including treats for all
species in the house, a bouquet of fruit with totally normal Bar Mitzvah
balloon, a BFF friendship candle, a tiny wooden flat hand-colored sexy doll,
and brotherly love in the form of a blog entry and
a party to celebrate my victim-to-victory-hood. You all are the reason I
made it through this alive (and let’s face it, sane).
Throughout
this medical mess, the word brave was
thrown around quite a bit. Maybe I didn’t hide from the doctors in a psychotic
state of denial, run through the streets crying (except for that one Tuesday
afternoon), or go to Army to get away, but I’m not brave for facing the cancer. To seek treatment for myself for a
disease that I have, it takes more
selfishness than bravery in my opinion. Thank you for your kind words, but I
don’t consider this bravery. My friends are brave—working each day with
authorities across the nation to track down animal abusers on case after
horrendous case while facilitating safety for those tortured animals; tirelessly
fighting the arrogant masses to allow basic equal human rights for LGBT
citizens; and standing in front of busy KFC’s and McD’s each week amid angry lunch goers on behalf of the billions of
chickens and cows brutally killed for a combo meal. Bravery is risking your own
safety and setting aside any resemblance of personal comfort for weeks to
document industrial animal cruelty behind closed doors. You, my friends, are brave
and you are my heroes.
So,
I feel great and have been back to my happy/active/jokster/over-scheduling/animal-defending
self. I ran two 5K races this year so far and dancing with our Kinect is my new
favorite work out (thankfully it’s done inside where no one sees my fumbling
too bad it’s done inside where no one can see my fly moves). Sure I still
have some mild side effects left behind, but when I think about how I felt in
the weeks coming into this year and compare that time to now—I am filled with a
deep appreciation for this normalcy.
“What
if it comes back?”
Yeah,
I’m not super woman and this might come back. But I’m not the type to worry or
succumb to paranoia because of “what if”-s. If the cancer comes back, I’ll deal
with it. Until then, I’m moving forward with a new attitude toward lessening
obligations, playing more, loving more, appreciating more, eating
fresh/organic/local, NOT caring what dress size I’m wearing or what the scale
says, and striving to give back as
the best vegan I can be. Oh, and I’ll eat cupcakes when I damn well want to.
