I thought I didn’t talk about it a lot . . .

It’s funny, if you have read more than a few posts on this blog, you know that I am a cancer survivor. I had cancer in my early/mid 20s, which means I have been cancer free for just over 15 years.  And I had the impression that I didn’t really talk about it a lot. But, just three posts ago, there it is. Granted, that post was over a year ago, but still, maybe I’m like this little Pig Pen sorta character and cancer is my cloud that travels with me.

I was aware of this possibility this week during a creative brainstorm at work. We were talking about a cancer drug and I was irrationally engaged. I was aggressive and overly emphatic and probably offensive. But the topic just struck such a chord with me that it wasn’t until it was almost over that I had to ask myself how much of that experience do I still carry?

I guess what also brought it up was a blog I came across this morning from a young mother with metastatic cancer. She died this week. And the one thing I know I carry is the fear that my cancer will come back (which is more than kinda dumb because statistically I have the same chances at this point of getting cancer as any of you) and I will have to leave my family.

When we decided to have children, we talked about the possibility because I needed to know that Dean would be okay alone. We have had many conversations over the years, none of which he wants to have, but discussions I feel I need to have to keep the fear at bay. There are days, though, where I hold my kids tighter and longer than they want because I want them to be able to remember.

Which is morbid and strange and so overly dramatic, I actually am annoying myself as I type this. But it’s there. So be it. Take it or leave it, that’s my story.

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