Thursday, December 23, 2010

Living With Cancer - Christmas

Today was the day - another treatment at the Cancer Center. Kelli went with me, just as she did one year ago when I had my first treatment. In honor of the holiday and my one year treatment anniversary, I took plates full of Christmas goodies to share with Dr. D. and the wonderful Cancer Center staff. (Thanks to Mums Kitchen - a big shout out to Marilyn Clifford for providing me with the cookies to share). It was so crowded and had such a long wait. We were there for 5 hours. Guess cancer doesn't take a holiday break.

As they "plugged me in" to my drugs, I closed my eyes and leaned back in my heated recliner (that's right, I said heated. They've always offered you warmed blankets which are awesome, but they cool down really quickly. Recently they got all new heated recliners in the chemo circle - a godsend for people like me who are always freezing). I heard a train whistle - something I've heard so many times in the past year since it runs right outside the window of the chemo room - and it brought to mind just how much a part of my life the Cancer Center and Cancer have become. I have watched a full circle of changing seasons through that window. The big Christmas snow storm was just rearing its ugly head when I received my first infusion last December and the snow stayed piled up outside that window for months to come. What a relief it was to finally see the trees and flowers bud and bloom when spring arrived, followed by the heat and vivid colors of summer. They really do a great job of landscaping around that building. Then, seems like just the other day I sat there watching the leaves fall from the trees, lamenting the fact that the snow and cold could not be far behind. And, here it is - and, so am I. Still hooked up to an infusion pump and still staring out the same window. This is my life now and I have learned over the many months how to live with it. But, it doesn't define who I am.

When my treatment ended and I got up from my warm recliner, I thought about that and I thought about Christmas and I thought about writing a poem. I do that occasionally (one of those little known facts about Cathy Stueve).

Life With Cancer - Christmas

How determined the days have passed...
some painful, some blessed, some a blur.
Methodically reckoned, the seasons of life
come full circle and thus reassure.

It's Christmas again. One full year of my life
has been spent looking out through this glass.
Each phase of the treatment, with it's challenge and strife
summoned promise that this too shall pass.

Now, with so much behind me, I've come to reflect
on how this has affected and changed me.
As with Christmas it's not just the outward effect,
but the spirit, the essence abstrusely.

The lights, the gifts, trees - all are symbols of Christmas.
But, is that the soul of the season?
Or, is there a message, an abstract description
of a much more significant reason?

It's the joy, it's the love, it's the peace and the promise...
the road map for how we should live.
Not the outwardly marketed glitz - yes, it's fun...
just as long as it's kept in perspective.

It's the same with my new life - it's how I am viewed.
Some see just my hair or my size.
But, there's so much more. It's my spirit renewed.
Like the meaning of Christmas implies.

I'm joyful, I'm thankful, I laugh and I love
I'm not just breast cancer defined.
I've found hope, I've found peace, I've found light from above.
The old me is now left behind.

It will soon be a new year and I pray that it will be a good one - for me and for all of you. Thanks for being there for me during this long year. Have a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

Later.

1 comment:

  1. Beautifully said. I can hear the hope, peace and light light in your words. Have a wonderful day tomorrow. I have no doubt you'll all make the most of every moment. Jean

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