I consider my “cancerversary” April 6, 2014. We all choose the date for different reasons. Some choose their official diagnosis date. Some choose their surgery date.
I chose April 6th because that was the day of my grand mal seizure leading me to the ER and being told, “There’s a lesion in your brain and it needs to be removed as soon as possible.”
I didn’t learn I actually had brain cancer for at least another two weeeks once we had the post-operative pathology report. Yet, by then, my world had already completely changed and would never be the same again.
To celebrate your cancerversary, here’s a pretty great idea:
“The New Normal“
I’ve written a lot on this topic.
There are many past Posts I could cite. Some are:
So much about having cancer requires us to accept what is called “the new normal“.
Seven Years Later, I’m Still Trying to Accept My “Now Not So New Normal“
I cannot count how many mornings I wake up and I think I can just jump out of bed! Nope, girl. You’ve gotta use a wheelchair! Not only that, I can’t use my left hand. So, I need my husband to wheel me in that damn chair.
Just tonight, I was trying to get into the bathtub utilizing the hand bars I need. However, I had to move the shower curtain to reach the bar. I leaned over too much and fell into the tub. My husband had to help, of course. Yet, I midunderstood what he was telling me to do. My feet were in the tub and he began running the water. The hot water was practically scalding and I couldn’t get my feet out of the water properly. He literally had to grab my legs to get me out of the water.
As you may expect, I had a serious “moment” afterwards. I cried and cried. All I could think about was the girl who used to go to hot yoga twice a week for 75 minute classes. Even after my first tumor, I was the girl who constantly went to spin classes! Yes. It was 6 and 7 years ago, but in a way it feels like yesterday. Honestly, I have never gotten used to the now not so new normal. I can’t think of myself as some girl in a wheelchair; someone with “terminal” cancer; someone who has gone through HELL just to “succumb to cancer”. I’ve made it THIS far…
I know my resilience is strong. Yes, I miss that girl who could rock out at my spin class. Also, I miss the girl who could do all the movements in yoga class while it was 100 Frahenheight in the studio. Yet, my power of resilience lives within that same girl. Maybe I’ll never get back to hot yoga, but I best be getting back on that bike one day at Prime Cycle!