Most of you know that 2011 marks 10 years of not dying of breast cancer for me (yea me!). And I've been celebrating. My big celebration/goal was running the North Face Bear Mountain 50-Mile Endurance Race. If you are new to this blog, you can read about my adventures and misadventures in becoming an ultra runner in my series "Run, Julie, Run".
And the celebration continues with some other big, fun races...and maybe a big trip - something exotic. More about that once decisions are made.
But the actual anniversary (or birthday, as I like to think of it) blew right past me. No nice dinner, no flowers, no special bottle of wine. Not because I didn't want to mark the actual date, but because I can't remember the date. I figure my surgery date is the date that counts most to me - when cancer was removed rather than when it was discovered. I know it's toward the end of July, mainly because I know that when I climbed Mt. Rainier a year after finishing treatment, summit day was the 2-year anniversary of my surgery. I know I climbed Rainier in late July.
This strikes me as a good thing. People often ask when life gets back to normal, when they will stop thinking about cancer all the time. I tell them it's not quite like that. Normal is different now. I don't know when we stop thinking about cancer. I still think something about cancer every single day. Now, in part, that's because I started a business offering fitness training for other cancer survivors: www.Life-Cise.com.
But I also tell them that over time the way I think about cancer changes. Yes, there are still very scary moments. Yes, I still get angry. I still get depressed. But it's no longer this big, looming cloud darkening all my thoughts.
Forgetting my anniversary/birthday seems like a good example. I'm celebrating 10 years of life that I wasn't sure I would get. Woo-hoo! But the actual day is insignificant to me now.
The fact that I forgot it seems more significant.
So, to all you newbies, to any of you in the midst of treatment, or struggling to move on: it does change; it does get better. It will always be with you, but in new and different ways.
Let's toast to all those details that seem so indelibly etched in our memories becoming so much less significant - for us all!
Julie
And the celebration continues with some other big, fun races...and maybe a big trip - something exotic. More about that once decisions are made.
But the actual anniversary (or birthday, as I like to think of it) blew right past me. No nice dinner, no flowers, no special bottle of wine. Not because I didn't want to mark the actual date, but because I can't remember the date. I figure my surgery date is the date that counts most to me - when cancer was removed rather than when it was discovered. I know it's toward the end of July, mainly because I know that when I climbed Mt. Rainier a year after finishing treatment, summit day was the 2-year anniversary of my surgery. I know I climbed Rainier in late July.
This strikes me as a good thing. People often ask when life gets back to normal, when they will stop thinking about cancer all the time. I tell them it's not quite like that. Normal is different now. I don't know when we stop thinking about cancer. I still think something about cancer every single day. Now, in part, that's because I started a business offering fitness training for other cancer survivors: www.Life-Cise.com.
But I also tell them that over time the way I think about cancer changes. Yes, there are still very scary moments. Yes, I still get angry. I still get depressed. But it's no longer this big, looming cloud darkening all my thoughts.
Forgetting my anniversary/birthday seems like a good example. I'm celebrating 10 years of life that I wasn't sure I would get. Woo-hoo! But the actual day is insignificant to me now.
The fact that I forgot it seems more significant.
So, to all you newbies, to any of you in the midst of treatment, or struggling to move on: it does change; it does get better. It will always be with you, but in new and different ways.
Julie
9 comments:
Happy 10 Years and many more! Peace, Health & Happiness!
Thank you, Melissa!
Here's to your success Julie. May you continue to thrive and spread your enlightening message to all. Your gifts of writing and running encourage us to think carefully about the way we approach life's challenges.
Live, Laugh and Love...
Congratulations, Julie, and here's to many many more.
You've sure accomplished some amazing things. And I like it that you forgot the exact date.
Julie, I warmly wish many many more forgotten anniversaries. You sure have earned, won and deserved them - and have added to all of our lives in the meantime. Takea huge bow! And continue...
x from Ireland
I love the fact that you have forgotten the date. That is so healthy. I take my anniversary as the day I started chemo because it was so momentous. And was also International Cancer Day.Looking forward to hearing more about your trip - when you have finalised the details.
x from South Africa
I just celebrated 20 years as a Hodgkin's stage 4 survivor. It's the first time I actually celebrated by having a Premier Jewelry party and donating my earned baubles to Wishes Can Happen in our local city. They made a wonderful young woman with ganglioneuroblastoma very happy. She is currently holding steady and will begin college very soon.
Thanks for all the good wishes everyone! Once again, I am struck with a childlike sense of awe at the human spirit and the shared experience (and of the internet - how cool is it to send good wishes to & from all over the globe in an instant!)
And my spunky friend - big congrats! 20 years - wow. And what a great way to celebrate - helping out others.
Once again, wishing very many forgotten (or remembered) anniversaries for all!
Congratulations on the anniversary, Julie! Great news.
Natalie
www.BreastCancerRegistry.com
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