It is crazy for me to process my cancer diagnosis only two years ago. It seems like a lifetime ago and yesterday at the same time. Cancer itself has been a whole blur of a journey inside another journey of simply living life. A detour I hope to never have to re-do. It has been bracketed in some otherworldly aspect. That whole experience can be a bit fuzzy but when remembering, it becomes crystal clear with intense feelings of grief and gratitude that overwhelm me to the point of tears. Still. Two years later. I am reminded of this as I read the news about the passing of Dawson from Dawson’s Creek. Aka James Van Der Beek. I remember recording Dawson’s Creek on a VHS tape as a freshman in high school because it came on at 8pm and that was too late for me. The two lines of a fuzzy television picture and the squealing noise of the VHS being rewound, I loved watching Joey climb into Dawson’s bedroom and wished I could have a friend and situation like that. I leaned in as the overly dramatic high schoolers dealt with life, love and teenage pressure before technology was a thing. Well, except for the Zach Morris cell phone. IYKYK. But hearing of Van Der Beek’s passing comes like tires screeching. An abrupt stop. Alarming. We had the same diagnosis. Stage III colorectal cancer. He died and I am in remission. Not sure what I did to earn such a blessing, but here I am and still working to feel worthy of remission (working on it!). But I am here, able to share my frustrations and grief and joy with you. So much of life has to deal with the gray. The both/and. While I am grateful to be in remission, I am still wondering if my numb feet will be a permanent side effect. And I grieve. I grieve for my numb feet. I grieve for all these expectations I had on myself of what my recovery and remission would look like and feel like. I grieve that I am not close to my expectations. I grieve for my body and the pain it has gone through. I grieve for my radiation induced postmenopausal life. I grieve for still wearing my diaper. I grieve and I have turned into a softy. Sometimes life stresses aren’t worth the energy we give them. Unfortunately, it took my cancer diagnosis to realize this. Do I still get stressed? Of course! (Just ask Chris). But I feel I am working to change my approach to these situations because all will work out. In some way and maybe not the way I want it, but it will work out. What do I mean? My youngest just got diagnosed on the autism spectrum. So now, both my boys are on the spectrum. While this is not a debilitation, it does take a bit of financial awareness while we figure out appropriate therapies, medication and support to help my boys become their best selves. Particularly my youngest as we are a little later in diagnosis than his older brother. But it will get figured out and we will be provided for. And, as I got this phrase from a friend who also went through a traumatic, life-altering experience, I get to figure out this situation and the many others that will come. I have softened. A beautiful sunrise while at the gym and I marvel at the beauty. I don’t always like to think of the worst case scenario where I could have died from cancer, but then Van Der Beek’s passing blurts loudly on my phone and I am acutely aware of my blessing to be alive. Two years in and I look forward to continued healing and paying attention to the hidden beauty found all around me. 

On a quick update, I had my recent Natera test come back negative. This is my bloodwork that matches up my cancerous tumor with my current bloodwork for any markers of the previous cancerous tumor. So yay, continued recovery.