The End (as I see it)

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.