Cancer blew up my life, sepsis has blown up our summer. We’ve had to cancel two of our little summer adventure trips, reschedule our beloved Shaker Village trip, and I missed my painting retreat on Madeline Island.
The Madeline Island art school was kind enough to let me roll over about half the cost to another session, so I’m going at the end of the month. But it’s not the same teacher or focus. It’s a bummer.
The summer weekend trips have given me so much escape…I would guess most people can see the “bucket list” drive I’ve had for them. More than once I’ve pushed myself too hard to make a drive, or to do too many activities. There’s a frenzy behind the fun.
I wanted another summer of making memories and getting out in beautiful landscapes…me walking behind the kids as they run on a beach or explore a new park, thinking of my death. Thinking of my absence in their lives and desperately trying to fill the time with fun and novel places. Hoping they remember us as an intact unit. Hoping they remember me.
This “Phase 2” of my cancer has been really hard. In some ways harder than Phase 1. Phase 2 started when they found the cancer cells in my ovaries in September. In a day, everything changed. I went from holy cow I think I might be ok for a long time and only having to take 1 cancer drug (with no side effects!) to crap this thing is never going away and all the chemo and complications since. My therapist said I haven’t even processed that yet. She’s right.
I’m pissed. This is so unfair. I did everything I was supposed to do, I suffered stoically through it all. And I STILL am the loser.
Stage 4 is a strange thing. It’s death and yet we keep living. It’s invisible yet we are being slowly murdered. The treatment saves your life but alters your life beyond recognition. How can I be grateful for that? I’m not. I’m really really pissed.
I want my summer back. I want my life back.