Saying Farewell To Illness
Yesterday morning, on my way into my office in San Francisco, I realized I was no longer in the fog I’d seemed to have fallen into when I learned I had breast cancer. This fog mostly seemed to involve eating a lot of mint chocolate chip ice cream, lying around reading, and thinking about mortality more than I usually do.
Actually it was more than just that. I also felt like there was a big black line that separated me from other people. On one side stood people who were well. On the other side was me. My side was on lower ground than theirs. The ground was boggier and there were more mosquitos. It was a miasmic spot. Foggy all the time. Not one in which you’d willingly take up residence. You get exiled there. Because you took birth control pills, or you don’t know how to handle stress. Or maybe it was those three cigarettes you smoked back in college, or the fact that you don’t laugh often enough. The residents of this side of the line are not happy, that’s for sure.
Late last week, I went to see my surgeon and got a good report. I’m off to radiation in a few weeks, a procedure that’s been explained to me over and over as being a belt and suspenders thing. There’s no cancer in you, but, man, after you do radiation there REALLY won’t be any. And the worst that will happen to you is that you might feel a little tired.
I went home after seeing my surgeon to people who behaved as though I’d won the Pulitzer Prize. It was that happy around here. Me? I kept wanting to say, not so fast, I’m actually still sick, you know.
I’m here to report that the revelation that I am not, in fact, sick, was a gentle one. It didn’t hit me like lightning. It came slowly, the way the fog lifts in the city. Many mornings on my way to work I notice what the fog is doing. Often, it’s hanging over the golden dome of City Hall, or obscuring it completely, making so much mist you think it might be raining. Only it’s not. It’s just foggy. This morning it was nowhere in sight. And then I saw that I’m not a patient anymore. I’m not sick.
I went into my office and did more work in a day than I’ve done in three months. I don’t feel worried or queasy or angry. I just feel like myself. I just hadn’t realized I’d lost myself so thoroughly. But I’m certainly glad to be back. That page up top on my blog? The one that’s called “How It’s Going”? I’m moving that somewhere else. I’m done. (And thanks to the dear reader who suggested this post be called A Farewell to Harms. That made me laugh, proving once again that I did not get breast cancer because no one ever tells me any good jokes.)
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Oh, bloglily, this post brought tears to my eyes. I am very happy to read this news. And as always you write about it so eloquently. I’m so glad for you.
Susan, You’re sweet. Thank you. And now, I’m off for a long hike in the hills. I’ve got to make sure I’m still a person who can actually walk up hill without whining or breaking down and demanding to be carried home. xo, BL
I’m impressed – I never was the sort of person who could walk up a hill without whining or breaking down and demanding to be carried home – as my mother is never tired of reminding me.
Congratulations on your recovery. You don’t know how pleased I am to read about it.
How wonderful to hear. Thanks for the update. I confess to peeking at “How It’s Going?” a few times. Must confess, I’ll be pleased to see it go.
Good thoughts to you Bloglily! I am thankful for your health and endurance.
what an absolutely lovely post. I am so happy for you – I know that you will remember this revelation. Continue to take care, and enjoy your hike!
Courtney
I am also very happy for you, BlogLily. What wonderful news and what an incredible relief for you and your family. Charlotte
BL,
Yeah! It pleased me enormously to read this post, no doubt considerably less pleasing than it was for you to write it!
So happy for you. Enjoy the hike!
Eoin
That’s just wonderful, Bloglily. Here’s to tippy-top health for you.
Wonderful news, Bloglily. Best of luck through the radiation treatments, too.
Bloglily, I hadn’t even noticed the How It’s Going tab until you mentioned it today. It’s a good summary (with some good gift ideas for friends who might need such a gift…), and yet, I’m glad you get to release it into it’s new home. Congratulations on the clean bill of health, and congratulations on moving toward the next step. I’m sending you a virtual toast to your continued good health and good fortune!
Good to hear that, really good.
Sending you good vibes, Bloglily. This has been a journey. I’m glad it’s now taking a new and happier direction.
Beautifully written post–the fog imagery? Perfect. Good to hear you’re back on this side of the line.
Wonderful news Bloglily — I’m so glad for you.
Congratulations on your recovery! Hope you had a great hike and continue to have many, many more years of hiking.
Beautifully written. Glad to arrive in time to share your happy news.
That really is wonderful. Just…wonderful.
Good for you!
Regards
What a lot of very nice people you all are! Hours later, I come back and find these very kind wishes. (And no, it’s not hours later because I had to be carried down from the hill — that hike was just fine — but then we went to a baseball game and that goes on for a very, very long time.)
I got thru your post on your recovery just fine because it is written so beautifly and honestly, like everything else you write, and is such good news. It was the next several heartfuls of comments of love for you that were impossible to get thru and still be able to focus on the screen by the end. I can’t even see to check my spelling. Keep hiking and writing.
That really is wonderful news. So happy for you! I’ll raise a glass of champagne to you tonight.
Great news, great person, great blog. I am looking forward to more of the three.
Great to hear this BL, I am very happy for you too. Now it is back to writing
Okay, so I have to admit, being the idiot I am, I never even NOTICED the “How It’s Going” tab until now. But then, how wonderful not to have noticed it until you’re ready to get rid of it. Congratulations! I’m so happy for you and will keep you in my prayers. OXOXOX
This also brought tears to my eyes. I noticed the How It’s Going tab a while ago and was stunned– that you had all that horror going on and still managed to post so thoughtfully to one of the loveliest blogs around. I have so many loved and liked ones going through cancer treatment right now. Your blog always reminds me of their vibrant other life, the part that’s not sick.
Hello You All — (youze?) It’s a very interesting experience to delete a page on wordpress — it sorts of dissolves, in a slow fade. I like that, liked moving that page. (It’s now at the not terribly well named site: cancerjournal.wordpress.com) And I am terribly moved by all of you — I didn’t expect to find so much kindness in a world where you can’t actually see into the eyes of the people to whom you are speaking. It’s quite remarkable. xxoo, Lily
A beautiful, touching post. Thank you for sharing. I am so glad you are well and am sending you absolutely all the best energy.
I can tell! I’m about to start writing furiously and freely in what I think must be attributable to those good vibes, Ms. Kitten.
I am so glad to read this.
AB
I am so very happy to hear this!
Good news.
Yay! So glad you are better and that you’ve found your old self again. That must be a wonderful feeling!
from what others have told me, you articulated precisely the space those who are diagnosed inherit. I wish this post could have a wider audience. Others would benefit.
How shoul a snake practice safer-sex?
Use an anacondom.
PS – my visits have lessened since I am without a computer and now catch as catch can.
warmest regards,