Submitted by TLHines on Thu, 02/14/2008 - 16:38.
It's been 43 days since I've officially been cancer-free, which has been bad news for this particular corner of my online existence. When you aren't going through treatment, or shuttling back and forth to doctor's appointments, or worrying constantly about the next step of your process, you don't have much to report.
Mind you, I'm not complaining.
It's an odd new phase I'm entering now, however. Cancer isn't the first thing on my mind every day. Cancer doesn't even really cross my mind at all, on many days. It's fading into the background, and I think that's an all-important part of the healing process: your body, and your mind, move on.
But I don't think it's all good, because I think when we heal, we also forget. And I don't want to forget. I want to remember what it's like in the eye of the storm, so I can help other people who are in it right now. I want to remember what's truly important in my life; the things that flashed before my eyes when I heard the word "cancer" weren't money, or work, or possessions. I want to remember it all, and keep it in the forefront of my mind, because if I don't, will I have really learned anything--changed anything--as a result of this whole experience? Will I still be standing in the same hole if I have to face this cancer thing again some day down the road?
In some ways, even though I know the wounds are healing--the metaphorical wounds, I mean--I need the scars to stay there as reminders.
Hello Tony, What an
Hello Tony, What an uplifting message to pass on to those we all know who are struggling with cancer. Looking forward to reading your latest book based in Butte, but sad to say, Our book club has kept me busy with some lengthy novels. Aquataine Progression and Charm School, which are both good reads. I passed your last message on to members of Chapters, and we usually discuss you and your progress. A home town boy, you know. Susan Friess
Congratulations, Tony, on
Congratulations, Tony, on your complete remission. I've never had doctors use that phrase with my NHL, even though it's been over four years of no cancer activity. Oddly, they call it "stable" or possibly "scar tissue."
Whatever.
I am just thankful to be feeling well and not to wake up each morning thinking of "stage 4, incurable cancer" -- the phrase that really grabs you upon diagnosis.
I think the best way to use this cancer experience in a positive way is to volunteer with newly diagnosed patients. We know what they are feeling and it is helpful for them to see someone who has cheerfully come out on the other side. It's what you're doing with our blog.
Good luck to you. I look forward to more books!
Hey, bexxar boy, I was
Hey, bexxar boy, I was waiting for your latest post! I, too, am struggling w/ this "hereafter"... had good response to my rituxan, & I'm in limbo-land. It feels a bit dramatic to say "I have cancer". Everyone wants to assume I'm cured, but I'm not that cocky. Am I a survivor? (implying that the struggle is done)--not going to claim that, either.
I think this experience of cancer is a wisdom-generator. It has deepened my appreciation for the here & now, & I better understand the experience of others in their struggles. That appreciation & wisdom can give me the words to share when it seems right--not that I can claim "health" for anyone else, but I can relate to the internal upheaval & inner faith a person needs to deal with their crisis. You & I may become, perhaps, part of that "cloud of witnesses" for the next person dealing with this awful disease.
Have a great spring/summer, Tony!
Peggy
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