(Would any of you keep the now deflated Mylar sock monkey balloon given to you to celebrate your last chemo treatment? Ha! I didn't think so--it's in my "undecided" pile! UPDATE: I threw it away).
And then there were cryptic written directions to the place at the point of "where you can't go anymore." I wondered where it was that I was going and looked in the envelope. It was from when my son was in the Youth Challenge Program.
(What does one do when one gets to the place where it seems one can't go anymore?)
I found a distinctly unflattering photo of myself from 2008, looking heavy and uncomfortable. I hardly recognize that woman. In the past I would have torn the photo to shreds, but I'm hanging onto it to remind myself of how far I have come.
(That was "before," before the cancer the first time, before the death of my son, before the cancer the second time. Before, a whole other life. Yes, how far I have come.)
I've started back to walking, and tracking my food intake. Through a totally serendipitous set of circumstances I started playing tennis again after over 20 years of not picking up a racket. I'm loving that. Moving in my body feels so good.
(And I'm not even tired!)
I showed up for my first three month cat scan and checkup. It was all good. And now I don't have to go back until January.
I know I have plenty of people who could tell me exactly how I ought to live. But not a single one of those people have walked in my shoes.
(Living life in three month increments is not so bad, after all. I have a few plans.)