Punchy Mommy Believes in Life

A health history I don’t recognize

I went to the dentist the other day. I was long overdue for a cleaning and after all the abuse my body has been through in the past six months I figured it was time. I was a new patient so I was given a new patient questionnaire to fill out.

Has your health changed significantly in the past 2 years? Yes.

Have you been hospitalized in the past year? Yes.

When is the last time you were seen by a doctor? Yesterday.

Please list the names of your treating physicians. Um, I have more treating physicians than the space provided. Should I use the back?

Please circle “Yes” or “No” if any of the following apply to you:

Cancer. Yes.

Please list the type of cancer. Non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma, primary mediastinal b cell lymphoma.

Chemotherapy. Yes.

Blood transfusions. Yes.

I’ve filled these questionnaires out many times. I took pleasure in writing “N/A” with long lines through all of the ailments listed. Who is this person with this health history that I now have to disclose? How could she be me?

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.