I love when I read a blog post and it leads to another and the ideas start mushing together in my head.
First I read this post from Diana Prichard with writing prompts to help reflect back on how 2011 went. In theory you answer one a day for each day of December. It’s December 6th and I’m still pondering my one word response for day 1. But I think I’ve finally settled on “evolution” as the theme of my life for 2011.
And then I read Doniree’s post from yesterday also about reflecting on 2011 and that lead me to Stratejoy and while I was there I signed up for the email newsletter. And the confirmation email I got for signing up for the newsletter asked me to write back and share my story. And this is what I wrote:
My story is something like just over 2 years ago I was diagnosed with cancer (I was 25). And during that time all I wanted to do was get back to the normal I was before I found out I had cancer and now that I’m moving past it I’m realizing I don’t want to go back, I need to go forward and get to somewhere else. I’m just not sure exactly where that something else is yet but I do know that I’ve decided to leave my job and focus on myself and my health, my family, and I’m going to really dig into my blogging, writing, and photography and work for myself as a part time thing. Monday is my last day of full time employment and I’m about to start a new chapter in my life.
And so the story of my life evolves again already.
Big freaking day today. It’s now been one whole year since I finished my cancer treatment.
A year ago I was thinking I’d get a tattoo today to commemorate the occasion. I’m not planning to do that anymore.
When they first gave me the waiver to sign that they’d need to make permanent marks on my skin, I asked, “like with a Sharpie?” The answer was not with a Sharpie. In order to do the radiation, they had to put three tiny dot tattoos on me to make sure they got me precisely lined up each day.
In the grand scheme of things I’m fortunate not to have any surgical scars or missing limbs. But the three tiny tattoos were a big, big deal to me because they are the only permanent marks on the outside of my body that indicate I ever had cancer.
I always liked to think about getting tattoos but I could never commit and I didn’t like the idea of someone telling me what I was going to get, where, and when. Before I turned 18 I dreamed of getting a star tattoo. After they put the dots on me I dreamed of getting at least one of them covered by a star. And I imagined that one year out would be the time to do that because it felt like long enough to mean the cancer wasn’t coming back.
I thought I could commit to a better permanent mark on my body now because someone already decided where I was going to have a tattoo. But now I know I’m the one who’s better, not the cancer and not the tattoo idea.
A year ago those dots screamed cancer to me but now I’ve made enough noise in other parts of my life that they’re just a whisper.
Absolutely. Even if when I went to the gym and swap laps for the first time in about 5 years I was sore for a week.
I don’t remember not being able to swim. At a very minimum, I was always in swim lessons.
I joined my first competitive swim team when I was in the fourth grade.
In fifth grade I went to the only sleep away camp I ever went to (wasn’t a fan of that sleep away part and didn’t ever do it again). It was swim camp at Stanford University with Olympic coaches.
In high school I was a member of the varsity swim team starting my freshman year and I was team captain both my junior and senior years (small school, only a few seniors on the team my junior year and they weren’t strong enough to make the varsity team).
When I was 16 I got my first job as I lifeguard and a swim instructor and I continued doing that on and off through college. Part time year round, full time in the summer.
After college in that in between period where I was looking for a career type job but hadn’t found one yet, I spent a season as a high school boys swim coach.
And then I had some issues with a repetitive stress injury in my upper back that’s apparently quite common for swimmers. And then I had the whole central line in my arm that couldn’t get wet so that ruled out swimming during the whole cancer thing. And then the radiation flared up the area affected by the prior repetitive stress injury. And just yesterday I finished the last of my physical therapy for that whole issue again.
I’m getting back into swimming slowly. Only swimming laps for 20 minutes at a time and taking plenty of days rest between to not aggravate my back but I’m getting back into it. I’m not quite ready to race again but I’ll always consider myself a strong swimmer.
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