As I near the first anniversary of my diagnosis, I find myself comparing life now to how it was before. Quite literally, time is now noted BC (before cancer). Everything that happened and will happen will always have the distinction of being before or after that moment. I see photos from last year from this time and think, “That was before. Look how happy and unaware I am of how absolutely, devastatingly your life is about to change.”
Fear and celebration are dovetailing right now. I’m approaching the painful memory of specific dates from 2016 while trying to stay focused on the happiness of reaching the same date in 2017.
For example, I had my hair colored the day of the terrifying biopsy last year. Hair styling very shortly after became an event so luxurious and precarious that combing took infinite care and usually resulted in uncontrollable tears. Never has there been such a focus on the top of my head. Never has so much money, time, effort, and emotional bandwidth gone into this forgettable tangle of highlights.
I had my hair colored again for the first time in almost a year. I have hair to color! It was blissful.
Savoring those beautiful moments will be what gets me through the next few months. Dates like May 17 (diagnosis) and June 15 (first chemo) are forever burned into my memory like a poorly planned tattoo, regrettably, even disgustingly, irreversible.
But, things certainly are looking up. The final treatments are scheduled. Surgeries are all healed. The new gummy bears are looking pretty darn good. My strength is returning and life is getting back to normal. And, blonde. BLONDE!