where to begin

In honesty, it’s been silent here on the blog for the last couple of weeks because I couldn’t pull myself together. I know you get it.  Andy’s upcoming post-treatment scans had me all tied up in fear, and grief and worry.  I was making my way through days in a fog of mental and emotional paralysis. Trying to breathe, trying to stay focused on positive intention. Mostly just feeling the tightness in my chest closing in.  Trying to find a way to be ok with the uncertainty, the possibility of more hardship to come.  It’s a tough place to be when you feel like you are “almost there”.  On this path there has been great strength and there has been plenty of falling to pieces.  

And then there was Andy.  I can only write of his experience from my intimate but outside perspective.  He has his own set of really hard things to deal with (understatement).  But you should know this:  he is strong of mind and body and dang, that meditation practice is something huge.  

So, yesterday.  Yesterday the scans came back clean.  Clean and clear.  How to take it all in?  How to begin?   It’s everything we’ve wanted and worked for.  We are there now on this path in the place we envisioned, and the path goes on and on and on.  But this moment now, we are there. And we are quietly rejoicing.

But here is hard and honest part.  I feel like if I meet you on the street or at the library or in the grocery I want you to know this: it’s difficult for us to feel total relief and celebration right now. We know we’ve accomplished a lot, truly we have, but we have been in this place before where all is well and we are “watching and waiting”, and then the bottom falls out. That feeling sticks with you.  It’s hard to shake.  The stats on Andy’s cancer are scary. They will be for a long time.  Unlike some other cancers, for sarcoma there is no time frame after which it is less likely to reoccur. It’s the truth. We all need to know it.  And the uncertainly of it all is maybe the hardest part to live with.  Scans every three months unless some symptom “pops up” in between. We’ve got no choice and we’ll find a way to move through our days bearing the uneasiness as gracefully as we can.  We’ve got some good ideas about how to do that.  And your understanding of where we are will just help.

And of course, we are still so surrounded by support, good medical care, our own love, and the amazing good fortune of living in this community of loving friends and family. Andy plans to work harder than ever at all he is doing to heal his body.  We know, from talking with other cancer survivors, that it’s easy to feel lost when you walk out of that docs office (the one who has been offering you TREATMENT for your cancer for so long) and they say to you…”good luck”.  It’s easy to feel like there is nothing more to do but wait.  But we know it’s not true.  There is so much to do.  So much to love, so much joy to notice in each day.  So much growing and becoming.  So much gratitude and discovery.  Nothing will ever be the same.

Where to begin?  Here.