I started this post one month after the madness started.
Then it turned into two months.
We are now three months out.
So much can happen in a short span of time.
TwoThree months ago, the husband and I were in a doctors office, first hearing the words “abnormal test results.” “[Giant, bloodsucking] tumor” (<–that was added for flair.) “Cancer.” “Surgery.”
Three weeks later, the husband had surgery. Level IIIa tumor was removed from his colon, Stage II cancer. Inconclusive results on the lymph nodes (only 9 appeared to be removed–thankfully, they were all negative, but nothing concrete until 12 were confirmed negative.)
Four weeks of recovery time.
Five weeks later, we met with the oncologist: the husband is cancer free. No chemo. Monthly monitoring bloodwork, meet with the oncologist every three months, colonoscopy every six.
It seems insane that this even happened. It seemed insane that it is over. And it seems insane because it almost feels like it didn’t happen, and everything that went on during the two months of madness seems far away.
The friend’s wedding I missed because I was so overwhelmed that I couldn’t process the idea of flying across the country? It seems trite and stupid to have missed it.
The half marathon I skipped because I couldn’t comprehend taking on the stress of training? The reasons seem so small.
Would I have done anything differently? Probably not.
I found myself necessarily paring down a lot of the time-sucking crap that was filling my life with anxiety. Everything from Words with Friends (which is surprisingly stressful) to stepping down from a volunteer committee that was more of a “should do” rather than a “want to.”
I’ve come to rely on my friends and family so deeply through all of this, before, during, and now after the madness. My running kept me sane, my spinning kept me pumped, and my sewing kept me calm.
But on the other hand, it does. not. seem. fair. that my husband got off so easy. So, so many people are not as fortunate to have their cancer taken care of with a simple laparoscopic surgery. Don’t get me wrong–I am thankful every day that he is here, whole, and well. I am sad this is not everyone’s story.
Here’s to hoping it continues to look up. It’s been a long road in 2013. I’m thankful to have my little family home and intact. We are fortunate.
Here’s a picture from when the husband came home from the hospital–the puppy sat like this for days.