In Round 3 of my battles with Melanoma, I have decided to no longer sit on my hands. Its just too much. I need to let it out of my "skin". Be an active participant in this cancer thing, instead of just hoping it will stand at the doorway and leave me alone. And so I will write.
about living again. Pining for it. Actually planning for the future. This is
kind of a new thing after 5 years of simply surviving. But its also fragile. I
am reminded of that every once in awhile. How close I am to the edge of the
pit. Yes, you know the one, the "pit of despair". Where all is
lost, nothing goes right and all goes wrong, ALL of the time. Or thats
how it seems anyway, in the moment. Thankfully the hopeful times are outliving
the “pit”iful times. Only time will reveal whether my ground hog days of “normal”
are hovering on the horizon or doomed to another bought of blah.I am
approaching my second "canniversary". Two years since my last
diagnosis. This is a first for me. I could never quite make it past one year
before. Havent been this far down the road. Its a bit springlike. Spring in
coastal BC anyway. Maybe a bit early, a bit tentative, but hopeful. Problem is,
there's still the possibility of a sudden cold snap. An uncalled for snowfall
in April that would cover their pretty hopeful flower faces, freezing them into
the whisper of caution comes. Why it only takes dark clouds on the
horizon and a hint of frost in the air to send me into a puddle of tears. But I
am hopeful despite my broken optimism. I am pretending the future is bright,
actually planning for it to be better. Maybe this year will be our year
of transition. The start of something new.
As me and
Mike sat talking over the smell of hollandaise sauce, discussing our plans,
Mike said, “It feels like we're starting over, a new life". Heaven knows
we need a new start. Can we Please put this behind us? I want our reference
points to be, a year before we "moved" instead of "4 years after
Dad died", or "after my third melanoma"...... How small yet significant
that is. We use reference points all the time. But until the markers all
become tainted by sadness, we don’t notice them that much. They are usually
happy things. Weddings, births, vacations. So we are making a new reference
point. We are moving. Not far. But hopefully just far enough.
leaving this house we have grown in for 14 years. Its the only house my boys
have ever known as home. It has grown and changed as much as they have. There
is only one surface in this entire house that has been left untouched. 4 walls
in my youngest sons room. Thats it. The rest have had varying degrees of
improvement, from paint to complete removal and creation.
Our house is
old. And I do mean OLD. But good "old". We have square ship nails in
our first growth wood, 10 inch walls and plumbing on the outside, because it
was an after thought. It was unloved for a long time, but we brought it into
its beauty. Gave it the character it deserved, as an old lady with charm should.
But its time to say goodbye. You gave us a place to start, a home to grow in,
but its time to find more peaceful pastures after these 5 years of pain.
right, divinely inspired. Last August, when we finally laid my Dad to rest
under a Dogwood tree to find new life, it felt like a completion. Everything
came to fruition. A meeting of crossroads. It was a strange month. I met people
from Dad’s life I hadn’t seen since his memorial. We had a nostalgic run of
excitement at the garage with a water leak, a backhoe, a gas line and fire
trucks. It felt like Dad was around again. There was always some excitement
going on at the garage when he was there. And there hadn’t been that much
excitement in awhile. Strange as it seems, it wasn’t overwhelming, it was oddly
comforting. One last hurrah!
This gave me
the fortitude and closure I needed to move on. Let go. Allow what Dad had given
me, to help us go forward. It couldn’t have happened any sooner. I wouldn’t
have had the strength or energy. Physically that was impossible. Just the thought, raised a massive concrete
wall before my eyes. But now, it felt like it was ok. While I slept one night, someone took the
wall down. I had the ability to move on
to step 539 of this Long process. I knew there were going to be another 126
steps to go, but dog gonit, I can actually see the finish line a ways off there
in the distance. Please Dear God, give me the strength to get there. To reclaim
my life once more.
The past 6
months have been chock full of man hours and changes. When I think of all I’ve done, it’s hard to believe it’s
just 6 months. I have felt driven. One of my newly discovered scriptures is
"For God is the one who for the sake of his good pleasure energizes you,
giving you both the desire and the power to act." Phil 2:13. I feel that
energy! I have felt it sustaining me these past 5 years and I feel it moving me
now. And I would not have survived without it. I can finally see the future
peaking over the horizon, and I’m finally going to be able to use my power for
the greater good, not just for surviving.