Giving the Grim Reaper a pimp slap

You know how they say time heals all wounds?  I haven't figured out yet whether this is true, and those wounds heal to become various scars, or if the fear, terror, relief and all the other emotions that have come with cancer are simply going to be a part of my life.

I had a close friend who's wife passed away about a year and a half ago.  One of the things I told him was that it's not a question of getting your old life back, but that it's finding a new normal.  Well, I'm having a bitch of a time finding my new normal.  Now, don't get me wrong, right now things in my life are going really well.  Physically I feel 10 years younger.  I wake up in the mornings, and not grumpy.  Not even a little.  I haven't had coffee since the surgery, I'm doing stairs at work, no more crazy intense cravings.  I'm genuinely feeling, dare I say it, happy!

The doctor officially says I'm in remission and based on the pathology report from the surgery, he's not recommending radiation followup therapy.  My consult with the geneticist let me know that I'm not at increased risk of colon cancer (the other cancer closely associated w/ uterine cancer), and I have only a slightly higher risk of breast cancer than the general population.  My incisions are healed, and even the hot flashes are decreasing in frequency and intensity.  The doc even said I was clear to resume all "activities" (bow chicka wow wow!)  I'm even starting to feel relaxed enough to start making plans for the future.

So why do I feel like the other shoe is gonna drop?

There's a big part of me right now grasping on to any happiness - a cute purse on shopgoodwill.com ( it's like crack for shopaholics!), the warmth of the spring sun, head butts and snuggles from Tony the Terrible Tom.  Simple time spent talking with my mom is suddenly the most precious thing in the world.  I tell myself, enjoy it now, because if the cancer comes back, you're shit outta luck.  I have to admit it.  I'm scared to death that the cancer will come back.  For the next 2 years, I get quarterly pap smears (and if you don't like the annual ones, try every three months!) .  Then I get to jump up to every 6 months for 3 years. I've got 5 years before I can relax and feel a little more like everyone else. 

I think part of why I'm feeling so on edge tonight is that I had a conversation tonight with someone who is battling cervical cancer.  As we talked, she said that she chose radiation because she still wanted to have kids.  It felt like a kick in the stomach.  Every day I'm reminded that I'm not a normal woman.  34 year olds are not supposed to be concerned about bone density and hot flashes.  Honestly, I don't even really have wrinkles yet (although I'm secretly convinced my boobs are shrinking.)  Even though she and I are having different treatments (she's doing chemo & radiation), she still has hope of a pregnancy.  No matter how much sexy time I make, turkey baster donations from friends, or even if I hold up a sperm bank, there's no physically possible way for me to conceive.

So here I am, physically and mostly mentally feeling the top of my game.  Financially I'm doing well, and I'm surrounded by friends and family who love me.  But the one thing I'll never forgive cancer for is for taking away my belief in hope  (oh yeah, and for turning my world upside down.)

So to death, whom I've soundly given a bitch-wheres-my-money pimp slap to, you can't have me for a few more years.  And to cancer - I'm warming up my other pimp hand for February 28th, 2016.

Ok, so maybe I'm just over tired and should really just go to bed...