Punchy Mommy Believes in Life

I wonder if there will be a time when I don’t cry when I say I had cancer. It’s starting to get embarrassing. Several people have commented on how they either didn’t recognize me with my hair cut or were complementing me on how much they liked my new hair cut. Most of the time I’ve either just smiled or said thanks. But sometimes, I just can’t help myself. I have to correct them. Maybe it’s the lawyer in me, but I can’t stand when someone has the wrong impression. Oh, I didn’t cut my hair. I had cancer. Why do I do this to myself? I should just walk away but I don’t…I can’t. By the time I utter the word cancer I have tears rolling down my cheeks, which always gets me a warm hand on my shoulder and a pathetic sad face look. I’m so tired of the sad face look! Maybe I say it because it’s time to share this with the universe. It’s time to release these memories, like little crumbs that I can leave here and there. I do feel a little better with each of these public admissions. There’s no secret here anymore. I had cancer and I’m ready to shout it from the rooftops.

I accept myself unconditionally right now.
                                – Dr. Christiane Northrup

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.