It's weird how spring triggers intense chemo memories. We finally got the chance to open our windows this week. The sun was pouring in through the windows and the breeze was blowing the curtains in a certain way that nearly made me faint with anxiety. I guess it must be something similar to what people with Post-Traumatic-Stress-Disorder (PTSD) experience when they hear a car back fire. I hate that I have trouble just enjoying the spring. But it is a mixed season for me.
Back then, I remember being so happy once the weather broke and I could finally do my "laps" (that was what I called my walking in circles around the living room because I was antsy from the steroids/trying to get the bloating down after a treatment) outside. I would walk down the street and around the block, happy to be outside, seeing the flowers peek their heads through the cold hard ground. It felt like a glimmer of life at the end of a tragic winter yet because at this point I still had several more treatments to go, instead of life- it felt like I was experiencing a slow death. Anxiety, fear, grief, and sadness over loss of identity was what I lived and breathed. I clung to faith by the tips of my slipping fingers. Somehow, though, I clung.
Spring sprung that year, regardless of my physical, spiritual and emotional state. It blossomed into summer. A summer of celebration. Cancer-free. Life had resumed. Hair grew back. Weight piled back on. Kids' rebounded. Memories remain. Fear lurks. Relief rushes in. Faith continues to eek along. God's goodness remains. His Faithfulness, unrelenting.
In nearly two years, I find I am still unable to say that I am *thankful* for my cancer. It seems like the right thing to say. It seems like so many others get there so much more quickly. I have so much that I AM thankful for. Just not cancer. Nor the season of cancer. I wonder if I will ever embrace Spring like I once did. Will the sights/sounds/smells always trigger a knee-jerk reaction?
I guess time will tell.