Cancer
is a f#%@ing show stopper.
That is a nicest thing I can say about it. Really, and that’s pushing
it. It is the scariest, loneliest, most heartbreaking
life event that has ever happened to me. If truth be told, there is not much
that I would leave off the table in bargaining with God for his assurance that
I would never have to go down that road again.
Nada, nothing, zilch, or nil with the exception of anything that
included my family as leverage. Unless
you have been there, you probably cannot feel me.
I got diagnosed in 2017, exactly three weeks before I was set to begin
graduate school. My life was on a roll. My youngest child was in his last year of Physical
Therapy school, I had no more kids at home, debt free, and I was in the midst
of enjoying my first grandchild. It felt fantastic to be doing what I wanted,
when and however I pleased, for the first time in decades. And although I was
26 years knee deep in my career, I was working in a job that I still found
rewarding. So, my plan was to keep chugging along as long as the work remained
meaningful and I continued to feel productive. But Cancer changed that unequivocally. It rocked
the foundation on which I had been built, so fiercely, that my mental and
physical being just crumbled to pieces before my eyes.
So, it surprised me as much as anyone that five months after I was
diagnosed, I began graduate school nevertheless. Looking back, school just
seemed like a feasible alternative to focusing solely on cancer and would help
to distract me from the seven-ton elephant in the room. Many people have asked why I chose to go
forward with school while having so much on my plate at the time. To be quite honest, I initially had no
intention of going through with it whatsoever.
I was sort of prodded and poked into it by my oncologist at MD Anderson.
He helped me realize that my decision to abandon that plan was a cowardly act
of surrender and a colossal betrayal to myself and my psyche. I don’t know if
it was that epiphany that propelled me over the threshold or just my angry
attempt to middle finger cancer. But
either way, it became a challenge as well as passive aggressive attempt of defiance
on my part. And most who know me, can vouch that I tend to gravitate towards
both.
So, for all of you who have ever wondered why at 51 years of age, I
would add such an enormous endeavor to my already full plate, now you know the rest
of the story. Grad school was a gift that
I gave to myself; a much needed distraction from a life altering event; my
triumph during a time of uncertainty and fear; and a lesson in living.
The decision to retire three years after obtaining my master’s degree is
purely the result of the foresight I gained from that dreadful experience; an
understanding of the importance of never wasting one second; because you
realize tomorrow may never come; that our lives are precious and should be lived
out each and every day. Retirement may or may not be a closed book for me. Who knows what the future holds! But for now,
I am comfortable putting it on a shelf. In the meantime, many things await me: a
bucket list that needs checking off, morning coffee-time on my patio, a fishing pole for those impulsive lazy Louisiana evenings, beer
thirty, my flower and vegetable garden, the open road, my family and friends, and making
memories with my grandkids. And if I am
being totally honest, that persistent yearning to feel good, to be doing what I
want, when and however I please, is stronger now than ever. 233 days and counting!
The 5 things that Cancer taught me:
Big girl panties only work if and
when you put them on.
British TV will film anything, if
you don’t believe me watch Goggle Box.
As painful of a reminder as it
is, life goes on with or without you.
I want kindness to be my legacy
Tell your people you love them everyday,
Movie/shows that I am currently watching: Who killed Sarah?, Broadchurch,
Last Tango in Halifax, Rake, Louisiana Flip and More
Music that I am currently listening to on my playlist Van Morrison, Classic, Rod Stewart, Rolling
Stones,
Books I am currently reading: Between Sisters, American Dirt
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