Yesterday, when speaking to a friend, I referred to my cancer as “a bummer.”
She said that I must have a good attitude if cancer is a “bummer.” Which I suppose is true. But I have had a moment each day for the past two weeks where I stop and it’s like “shit…I have cancer. Caaaaaaaaaanceeerrrrrrr. The C-Word. The Big C,” and whatever other euphemisms they’ve come up with for it. I usually don’t think about it because, quite frankly, I have a ton of other ducks to get in a row.
But when it gets quiet, and you’re alone, with no distractions (ok, ok, it’s usually when I’m in the bathroom) that little thought creeps in…that I’m actually sick. For real this time. I don’t feel sick. But I am. It’s going to take some getting used to.