Surviving

Today marks seven weeks NED (no evidence of disease). My next PET scan is in a month, and I am starting to get nervous. Sometimes it seems almost like I never even had cancer. It is a strange memory mixed with new self-identification mixed with a blurry understanding that it might not be over. I am balancing on the edge. Over one edge is the painful memory, which is not really a memory but more of a permanent piece of me. Over the other edge is a palpable pressure to live all of the lessons I’ve learned. I am stuck here in the middle. I am afraid of never being able to move forward. I am afraid of moving forward too fast and forgetting all of the lessons I have learned. What right do I have to feel sorry for myself when I am, so far, being given the ultimate gift? My treatment is working. I am experiencing what every patient hopes for and I am not grateful enough. I am balancing on the edge between life and death, while at the same time struggling to remember that it is even part of my life. I am constantly trying to define my new self. I evaluate every one of my actions, thoughts, emotions, to determine how it fits into this new life. Death has introduced himself to me. He occupies my thoughts, reminding me that no matter how “back-to-normal” my life may seem, I have forever lost control.  There is no escape. All I can do is fight, and for that, I am so grateful.