It feels weird to say those words. I had cancer. Not I have cancer. It’s over, my 9 months of hell is over and it feels surreal. It’s a bit anti-climactic actually. They amputate your breasts, you struggle through 6 harrowing rounds of chemo, radiate yourself 25 times and commit to never forget to taking your daily dose of Tamoxifen and now it’s over. No pat on the back, no cap and gown, no paper with the words, “ALL CLEAR,” on them. But my friend, Francey, did make me a certificate.
I go back in 3 months. A year to the day that I got my initial diagnosis. It’s amazing to me what can happen in a year. You can meet, fall in love with and marry someone. You can get pregnant and have your baby in a year. You can move and settle into a new town, country or continent in a year. Or you can find a tumor, be diagnosed with cancer and healed in year. And then life just chugs right along. Like this huge hiccup in the road never even happened.
But it did and I celebrated on Tuesday. With my sweet sweet friend Francey, who surprised me at lunch with a bottle of pink champagne. May 6th will go down in infamy.