Wednesday, February 29, 2012

525,600 Minutes...

I love having an epiphany, don't you?

It dawned on me this past weekend that it had been 1 year since my journey with cancer began.

One year. Wow.

Now, technically, I wasn't diagnosed until April 5th, but the surgery which triggered all of the events was on February 25, 2011. A surgery and day that made all the difference.

So, a year? How do you measure a year? If you were the cast of RENT, you would do it in song.
525,600 Minutes

If you're me, strictly referring to the cancer journey:
  • 4 Surgeries
  • 8 Chemo treatments
  • 30 Radiation treatments
  • Too many blood draws & doctors appointments to count
What I also find interesting about my year, is that I had this epiphany while traveling to a conference for young women who had been diagnosed with breast cancer. Exactly a year later.


The best number was the smallest:
  • 1 more birthday for everyone I love.

Sunday, January 15, 2012

Survivor's guilt - Merchandising edition

Had my 3-month check up this week - All Clear!! Woo hoo!!!!!

I've been lucky enough to go shopping lately, something I haven't been able to do in a while. And by shopping I mean, shopping for ME! Clothes for ME! As you Moms out there know, that's something that doesn't happen to often.

Yesterday I'm at one of my favorite haunts, Old Navy, and come across a shirt on the sale rack. It says:

Then has a little Komen for the Cure ribbon on the bottom. And its not pink. So I throw it on the pile because of course, it's for BREAST CANCER!! Like, how can I NOT have this???

As I'm in the fitting room looking at the shirt I start to have mixed feelings -
I SHOULD buy the shirt, its for a good cause.
I DON'T want the shirt, cause it's not a great design (pretty boring!).
I SHOULD buy the shirt because of what I went through.
I DON'T want the shirt because of what I went through, and I have about 5 others that make the point for me already.

I put the shirt on the NOT buying pile. And the guilt goes on the Marjie pile. Ugh.

I want to do everything I can to support the cause, and support others, without being a walking billboard. Maybe the best way to fight this disease is to show it how we go back to being normal. We show others in the fight that normal will come back. Their hair will grow again. The laughter will return. And someday, in the not too distant future, they will go a full day without remembering that they had cancer.

Of course I'm still waiting for that day, but it's coming. I know it.