11.02.2012

A Normal September

Oh where, oh where did the Colon Cancer Chick go?

Oh where, oh where did she go?

Easy, she went in garage, grabbed an empty Amazon box, put this whole chemo and cancer experience in it, taped it up and threw it in the attic so it could collect dust.

Over the last 10 weeks, I've thought about that box when I looked at the fading PICC scar on my arm. I've groveled at it as I tried to make all the new little baby hairs growing back not stick straight up with frizz. I've contemplated it every time my feet would go numb or I'd sit down and stare at the long list of blog ideas I need to start on.

My inability to emotionally process the last 10 months has left me with a serious case of writer's blogger's block. I've had no desire to talk about something that I'm currently hiding away in an imaginary box in the attic. There's a reason it's up there with the 18 boxes of Christmas decorations I make Kyle drag down every year. Because don't know where else to put it right now.

And here I thought I would have been so empowered and inspired and angry and motivated by my experience. Never did I think I would immediately put the experience behind me and move on with my life like it never happened. No bracelets, no t-shirts, no bumper stickers. Not even a 5K yet.

It's not that I don't want to be empowered and inspired and angry and motivated. I'm just having a harder time integrating my cancer experience into my return to normalcy, so I've elected to put it all away for now.

For now I say. I'm still a little new to this side of the journey so I have no doubt that soon and very soon I'll start emerging from the shell I feel like I'm hiding in. Leave it to me and my aggressive personality to feel like I've fallen short for not climbing the post-treatment mountain already!

Maybe I need to go to a 12-step group for cancer survivors where I can stand up and even admit to being one. 

In the mean time, I'm following through with all my plans to regain my strength, regain my health, regain some weight and be the girl I remember before all this started.

For you visual types who drifted off after than first paragraph, the last 2 months have consisted of things like this.


Ellipticalication.
You Spin me right 'round baby.
Running and tripping. Don't trip, don't trip, don't trip, don't trip, don't trip...and I tripped.
I've been having some romantical pool dates with KY. Even sharing a lane with him at times. He says I'm much nicer about sharing a lane than I am about sharing a bed. What can I say, there's less snoring and farting in the pool.

And these little passing reminders of months past:


PICC scar-be-gone.
Celebrating what little bits of whispy hair I have left during a visit to my beloved Minneapolis!
Every morning I make evil angry eyes at all the baby hairs. I glare at these wiry springs and attack them with a flat iron while reminding myself to be GRATEFUL I only have a few million growing back in and not a whole head.

And then there's those other crunchy things that can't hurt after all the other crap that I've put in my body:

A little electrodermal screening.
A little homeopathic-crunchy-natureopatic-alternative care.
A little infrared sauna-ing.
I hate to disgrace cancer survivors across the globe, but I almost feel like the last 10 months never happened. I've blocked it out for now so I can get this train moving again. I know I'm canoeing down that river named denial, but let me enjoy the paddle for now, keep my memories in that taped up box and pretend that life is normal. Eventually I'll get to the point where talking about treatment will get easier and won't make me cry. But for now I'll just work on rebuilding myself elsewhere.

I'm sure some cathartic blogging can't hurt in the mean time.














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