It’s been two months since my last post. I didn’t post about the burning, searing, pain in my leg that made me feel like I could collapse at any minute. I didn’t post about the hearing test that showed success from my February ear surgery. Those are yet to come I guess.
Today I look back at a whirlwind weekend, one which a year ago would have sent me to bed for a few hours. Yet, I feel well. Tired, but well. Today I look back at the memories of my son’s wedding a year ago, just a few months out from my last treatment of ipilimumab.
I remember how much I hurt by the time we got to the reception, how tired I was and how desperately I wanted to lie down on a soft bed. I almost left at one point to go back to the hotel, but stayed when I realized my family still needed me, my son still needed me, mostly, at that moment, I felt my daughter-in-law needed me there. I stayed and shot an extremely out-of-focus, badly lighted video of the last stragglers, drunkenly singing one final song. The quality stunk. The memory, however, is priceless.
As I watched that video again, a year later, I realized what I would have missed, if I had conceded to my discomfort. I would have missed a moment that will never happen again.
Cancer does that. Takes those moments and sears them into your heart, telling you – don’t take this for granted. Yet, the further out you get from diagnosis, the more you push this aside, thinking, I’m cancer free, feeling good, moments like this will come again, they will wait. Yet, they don’t.
It’s been two and a half years since my metastatic melanoma diagnosis. One year, two months since the end of treatment. My energy is coming back. In a way that scares me, thinking I won’t take the rest I need to ward off any recurrence. Thinking I’m invincible, I’ve got melanoma beat.
Yet, burning leg pain sent thoughts of metastasize through my head, requiring an MRI to prove the cancer had not spread. Physical therapy was the best solution. Thankfully it is working very well.
I’m tired after our whirlwind weekend, yet would not trade a moment of it for the memories it brought – seeing my youngest son after too long, my parents and my three grandchildren, my daughter enjoying her god-daughter, my son and his wife celebrating one year of marriage, pushing through yet one more project in the updating of our house.
Looking back a year, I realize how far I’ve come. Looking ahead, I realize how much more lies waiting.
Rest might be a good option tonight, for my family needs me tomorrow, next week, next month, next year, for as long as I can go. There are moments that won’t wait. I want to be there to embrace and capture each one.