Remission

Journal Entry 8/2/23

I am in remission. Officially. Was told by two different doctors that I can say the word remission and mean it. It feels like it’s not real, but it is. 

Cancer has changed me in so many ways, I don’t think I can even describe the scope of it. but I’ll try to tell you some of the things.

There are some obvious changes. 

If you look at my belly you will see a foot long scar (pubes to boobs). It’s healing nicely and I have unexpected impulses to show it to people.

I am still bald, but my hair will grow back. I’m almost tempted to keep it shaved. It’s my cancer card. My excuse for having groceries delivered (the delivery drivers don’t seem nearly as judge-y when you answer the door with a bald head). 

Inside of me there are a whole bunch of parts missing. Thankfully, I don’t seem to miss them at all. Although their absence creates some menopause like discomforts, like hot flashes and heart racing and vaginal dryness, but we don’t need to talk about that. 

I think I escaped most of the neuropathy, but I do have some tingles in a couple of fingers on my right hand sometimes. 

Less obviously is the tiredness that comes from the treatments. They say that recovery time is 2 months per 1 month of treatment, so I should be back to something like normal in about a year. Although because I’m on a maintenance drug that may take longer. In lessons and socializing with friends, I seem to have enough energy to act “normal”, but then I definitely need a nap that afternoon, or the next day. 

My brain doesn’t work as fast as it once did. And I sometimes get words mixed up as they are coming out of my mouth. It could be amusing, I guess, but mostly it’s just a little frustrating and I have to slow down and reset and have compassion for myself and speak slower. 

My spirit is struggling to make sense of the cancer still, but more than that, I’m examining my life and the way I spend my time. The things that I want to do with the time I’ve got left.

Because cancer reminds you, that you will die. Hopefully I’ll still get to be an old lady with long white hair, but I don’t know that for sure anymore. 

And so, I rest. I play. I love. I write. And I try to create more music, because my voice is most easily expressed in music.  

Kate, wearing glasses and a black beanie, leans back in a chair by the fire pit in a friends back yard.

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