One less title
First it was daughter, sister, friend, student, then came wife, attorney, mother, and…cancer patient. Who knew I would collect so many identities by the age of 32? The thing about these is that they just happen. It’s a part of life I guess. They enter silently, settle in, and seamlessly become a part of who you are. I never noticed them before because I accepted them. Most I chose, the rest I could live with. But cancer patient? No thank you. Not now, not ever. There was no meeting of the minds for this one, no consideration. This label was a deal breaker.
I went to the post office a few days ago. I approached the next available window and shortly after I stepped up, the attendant, a middle age man with friendly features, asked, You a vet? Me? No, I’m not a vet. I thought, what the heck is this guy thinking? Surely I do not look like a finely tuned fighting machine. Oh, he said with a pause, I’m a vet. I like you’re hair cut.
I started to smile ear to ear as it dawned on me. I am no longer a cancer patient. I’m a survivor. Now that’s an identity I can live with.