The Day Everything Changed
I have cancer.
I still can’t believe I have cancer.
I don’t know why I’m so surprised. I know plenty of people who have had it, who have it now, and some who have died from it. I guess no one ever really believes it will be them.
I had no family history. I’ve been healthy most of my life.
And ironically, I still feel healthy.
I’m currently in what they call active treatment. I’ve just completed my fifth round of chemo out of six.
On March 3, 2021, I had surgery to remove what everyone kept calling “a large mass.” The next day, it was confirmed — cancer.
I should have been prepared. The doctors had warned me “it” was presenting that way.
But I wasn’t. And if I’m being honest, I still don’t think I am.
I had been uncomfortable for months. I knew something wasn’t right.
But I waited.
I told myself it was probably menopause — the bleeding, the bloating, the cramping. I even went to the doctor, and they didn’t seem overly concerned at the time.
Now, less than a year later, I’ve had surgery and I’m in chemotherapy.
And my future feels very uncertain.
The strange thing is… I still don’t really believe it.
If I hadn’t lost my hair from chemo — if I wasn’t actively going through treatment — I think I would feel completely normal.
But I’m not.
Because I know there are still cancer cells in my body.
My surgeon told me she saw small pieces attached near my heart — my healthy, beating heart — and chose not to remove them for fear of causing damage.
Just sit with that for a second.
It does something to your mind.
Physically, I recovered quickly from surgery. Apparently, I’m a “good healer.” I had never had surgery before, so that was a surprise.
Physically, it wasn’t awful.
Mentally… this entire thing — journey, process, road trip, whatever you want to call it — is a complete and total mind fuck.
How long do I have?
Will it come back?
When?
How fast?
Maybe never?
Will it hurt?
How do I live every day without obsessing over it?
No one can answer those questions.
We all live with the reality of mortality somewhere in the background.
But something like this brings it front and center. Every day.
I always believed that real change — big change — comes from dramatic events. Life or death moments.
That’s when people:
find God
write books
get in shape
change careers
But so far… I’m still just me.
Just scared.
I haven’t had some huge epiphany.
God hasn’t suddenly entered my heart.
I haven’t transformed into a better version of myself.
I’m still me.
Maybe I’ve always been scared — and now it’s just closer to the surface.
I want to be here to see my daughter get married.
I want my grandchildren to remember me.
That’s about it.
I used to think I might do something extraordinary with my life.
Change the world somehow.
But I didn’t.
I’ve lived what most people would probably call an ordinary life. Not boring — but not extraordinary.
Then again… I don’t actually know anyone who has lived an extraordinary life.
Maybe I’m wrong about that too.
I’m trying to read a daily reflection book a friend gave me.
I like it. It makes me think.
But I forget to read it everyday. Then I feel bad for forgetting.
Consistency has never been my strength.
I start things. I stop things.
Even things I enjoy. I don’t really know why.
I’m also trying to be less angry.
To forgive people.
Or at least understand that maybe they were having a bad day… or maybe they just see the world differently than I do.
I don’t always succeed at that either.
But I do believe this:
I am a good person.
I’m not perfect. I can be stubborn. I jump to conclusions.
But I’m not mean.
I’m not a warrior in a battle.
I’m just a normal person in a really crappy situation.
There’s no lesson here.
No transformation.
No meaning I’ve neatly figured out.
This is just where I am.
Scared. Aware. Still showing up.