It's been a while.
I still have cancer.
I am still navigating what I can only describe as parallel lives.
There is me, mother, wife, full-time working woman, who is trying to find missing library books and make dentist appointments. Someone who is making plans for summer camp and beach weekends, making mental grocery lists and trying to pair missing socks. Someone who had a hard enough time trying to balance work and home before fitting in devastation.
Then there is me, breast cancer patient on week 20 of sitting in a chair, waiting, wondering, hoping. Someone who has given up on headcoverings and who barely wears a wig outside of work. Someone who makes green smoothies and keeps her talismans close at hand.
It is amazing how normal this has all become. How the weeks have moved forward and how much I have changed and how much I am very much the same.
You would think I would be sleeping less. That the worry would be so constant, so chronic that I could do nothing but sit wide-eyed in my bed at night and fret over all the what ifs and the things that I may miss. And while there are times that I am blindsided, hit so fiercely and furiously by the enormity of my diagnosis, I am also so exhausted by chemo and kids and correcting commas that there is no time left to pay it any mind.
So I live in both spaces, balancing precariously on the tightrope of each, trying to move on.
