Where do I start with an entry after so long?  My mind has been swirling with so many thoughts lately and I felt that familiar itch to write again.  I didn't realize until I logged in that it has been nearly exactly one year since my last post.  One year ago was my last infusion.  Two years ago today my port was in and Trevor and I had our chemo prep appointment with the nurse going over the lengthy list of side effects for each medication I'd be receiving and my schedule that would begin in 3 short days.   The day before that I had said goodbye to my parents and my girls as they headed off on a trip to Disneyland that I was supposed to attend but now had to stay behind.  This is just a snippet of the inner workings of my mind the last month or so.  It's like there is a carousel of time stamped memories that continue to revolve and project through my mind and with each one I recount where I was and what I was doing two years ago (click) and even one year ago (click). From the original mammogram and the biopsy appointment, to the moment my friend came to bring by donuts the morning after my first round of chemo and I  quite literally felt my body failing me as I stood in the doorway thanking him.  Each of these memories has played like a morose slide show through my mind this last month.  

A year ago although I was finishing my infusions and had been "cancer free" for a few months I quite honestly was still in the beginning stages of processing what had happened.  It's almost as if it was difficult to even begin to digest what I'd been through until after it was over.  I'd spent so much time just trying to survive day to day and participate in whatever family stuff I could.  There wasn't the luxury of thinking through any of it.  But that was also the gift I came to realize to some extent.  It kept me vigilantly rooted in the present and believe it or not there are times that I miss the simplicity of the focus of my day.  One of my fondest and simplest memories were mornings that I could get up and sit on the edge of our outdoor couch - this certain cushion even - and at a time of the morning where the sun would hit my face and I would close my eyes and soak it in.

A year ago I was also still experiencing a lot of fatigue and we weren't really sure why.  I would randomly miss a day or two of work here and there.  I remember needing to rest on my friend's couch last year after walking the kids around the block to trick or treat for a bit.  Exhaustion would still creep up and get the better of me.  But I can happily say now that that last infusion signaled the last of my fatigue and as the New Year rang in my energy came back as has flourished since!

Physically I'm doing amazing.  I was plagued by lasting GI issues for quite awhile but those have resolved and I have a nail that never grew back in normally but other than that and a few scars you'd never know what the last couple of years entailed.  I got back to hiking and finally got to start using my Peleton in January!  And in October I got to cross a major milestone off of my bucket list when Trevor and I summitted Mt Whitney.  It was incredible. 

The weight of it all has changed and evolved over time of course.  And I liken it quite literally to a weight - a weight that I physically wore.  I used to say that it felt as though the experience was like a weighted cloak that I put on each morning.  It felt so much a part of me.  And as strange as it might sound, because it was so much a part of me, I felt as though I needed to acknowledge it, talk about each day.  Like to everyone.  Even the Starbucks barista in the drive thru.  True story lol.  It just felt like such a huge part of who I was and to not talk about it would be like not being my full self.  That has changed over time and I no longer feel the weight of that cloak each day.  I'd liken now to more of a lightweight shrug or caplet? I can now take a comment on my hair without recounting my entire medical history.  Progress comes in all shapes and forms lol

Mentally I feel pretty amazing too.  I feel so grateful to be here.  I am also grateful that I'm not plagued by thoughts of recurrence constantly.  I am lucky to feel a sense of confidence that I'm healthy and I don't worry about every little ache or pain being cancer.  Not everyone can find that peace or has the luxury to dare to dream it.  If I'm honest I do sometimes worry about the long term though.  In my quietest moments I can't help but wonder about it coming back in 10, 15, even 20 years.  It will never feel like enough time.  There is always a bargaining that will take place in my head.  

 So I guess in short I'm doing great.  My body has come back strong and I have immense gratitude for that.  I always hoped that I'd be able to hang on to those feelings of being extra present and grateful, and I think I've managed to keep some of that, but the truth is that life does keep going (thank goodness) and the "to do list" continues.  I think I just needed to take some time to acknowledge the aftermath.  I don't think the aftermath of any trauma gets quite enough thought or attention - at least that feels like one of the things I'm learning.  With each new day as my carousel clicks to the next memory I try not to hold too tightly to what was, but to appreciate how far I've come since then.  I'm confident there is more to learn from this experience and all the others that life has to offer.  My goal is to remain open to those lessons and opportunities for growth as much as possible.  Thanks for being here to witness the ride.