Thanks for your comments of support on my last post. I didn’t expect this to be an ADA thing, but I suppose you’re right. The Americans with Disabilities Act covers more than wheelchair ramps and voting machines, and it’s good to remember that. There’s so much to learn, in this new post-cancer haze that I’m in.
Post-cancer. That sounds so good, doesn’t it? In a weird sort of way?
Last October, WonderDaddy did something amazing. He made reservations for us and our MOMS Club friends at a fantastic place this summer. It was the kind of thing that we’ve never even done for ourselves, but he wanted to create something special for me to look forward to, as I lay in bed, sick from the chemo, and growing weary of the side effects.
He made these plans, and we decided that (time to look away, Mom) it would either be a grand celebration of our victory over cancer … or a goodbye party.
For, really, not too many people fight IBC and are declared disease-free for any length of time. Most of us, I admitted tonight as I twittered with Susan Reynolds, do become metastatic, and it’s just something that we have to live with. I’m learning to live with the possibility. I’m learning to push through it and enjoy each day, while working to push my own projects forward a bit each day too, and to reach out to others as you’ve all reached out to me. I’m still learning, and I am just now learning that there is so much still unresolved, in this new post-cancer world.
There are even things yet to write about. Things I didn’t get to tell you yet, like how I’m learning to live with my new body. How I take a magic pill every morning that will ward off the cancer for the next five years. How it will put me into menopause (again). Or not. How the children at preschool now know that my lymphedema sleeve is nothing to fear; it just helps my arm feel better. How when my 15 month old lifted up my sleeve today to peer at the elastic around the top, and fiddle with it, it hit me like a brick. How I then recovered, helped him smile at the strangeness, and turned it into a big cuddle. How despite it all, I am still grateful for every day. Every day is a day I would never have had if I were hit by a bus on June 16, instead of cancer.
So yes, as it turns out, the party will be a celebration.
We’ll have a celebration online too. I haven’t figured out what, exactly, but June 16 will be a PARTY over here on Toddler Planet.