Wednesday, June 22, 2011


The get-well cards from last summer are in a neat pile on the side of my desk. My wig is tucked away in my dresser, among the bandanas I wore when the weather got too warm.

I don't get to be "done" though, despite what the casual observer might assume. Every six months I get to have a few sleepless nights and then have a more detailed than average mammogram, and wonder what gopher might pop its head out of the scarred landscape.

Little fire drills along the road, like letters to establish medical need for more mammos, can bring a wave of "Oh fuck, I don't want to do this again" style panic.

And tamoxifen comes with its own set of testing. Because it can keep you from getting breast cancer again, but give you OTHER problems. Do you feel lucky? I'm not sure I feel lucky. Good times. No anxiety whatsoever (I have a bridge to sell you, by the way...)

So today, please spare a thought for all of the people who are muddling through the aftershocks, one day at a time.

(the luminaria is from the Relay for Life my nephew attended two weeks ago)


markhudson75 said...

I'm so glad you made it, Carly.x

Trish said...

Can't tell you how many people I've talked with who say "oh, so you're "cured" or "in remission" or...something, right?". Well, no, I still have cancer, they just can't find it at the moment. That kinda brings the conversation to a stop.

But G-ddammit, like you, I'm a survivor and cancer, the tests, the side effects, can all kiss my a$$.

Was also just giggling with friends about all the med ads during's a wonder we've all lived this long, considering the side effects of most meds, let alone chemo.

breathe in, breathe out, repeat as necessary to get thru the latest aftershock.