The gifts that cancer gave me.
It turns out being suddenly, dangerously ill isn’t all bad. Especially if it’s the kind of illness I have, which would kill me if left untreated but other than that is, at this stage, entirely symptom-free.
So I’m a little tired and sore from the treatments, but the disease itself is not troubling me in the slightest.
So weird.
Here are some good things that cancer has brought into my life:
I have never felt so cherished by so many people. I know, suddenly, who my friends are. I know that they love me. They have reached out, sent cards, sent gifts, sent snacks, sent emails, sent cheese and brownies and socks (so many socks. I’m wearing a pair right now.). I feel so damned loved, and it’s amazing. As an survivor of child abuse who was relentlessly trained to believe myself useless and unlovable, who always felt she had to appease those around her and justify her existence… well, take that, PTSD. You do get to take up a little space in the world, and there are people who want you here.
So much support and sympathy and love from 99% of the people I’ve encountered on the internet.
I know an absolutely fabulous general surgeon now.
Man, I thought I was out of fucks before.
This has been amazingly good for my willingness to set boundaries. I’m trying to restrain myself to appropriate crankiness. I’m willing to be a batty old woman who doesn’t suffer fools, but I don’t want to be an asshole or harm people.
It’s clarifying to have that sense of your own mortality reinforced. The last time it happened to me, I decided to get serious about my writing, stop holding myself back with that “if you don’t really try you never have to find out if you’re going to fail” nonsense, and work at it as hard as I humanly could. Two years later discovered I had a career. I wonder what I might wind up doing this time.
I’m getting better at saying no to things.
There’s probably more, but that will do for now. Hope you’re staying safe out there!
best,
Bear