49 E-mail: the celebration, the speech, and a moment of contentment

Today is Sunday, October 22, 2006. It’s a little after 1:00 in the afternoon and everyone in my house is taking a nap except me. The dog is sleeping on the floor just inches away from my chair. The cat is snoring delicately from the chair behind me. The baby is sleeping on my husband who is napping on the sofa in the living room. With all the sleeping people and animals in the house and the dryer tumbling upstairs, a sense of contentment steals over me as I write this latest and perhaps final entry.

A week ago I had a party. The Party. It was a celebration of the end of my cancer treatments. My husband and I worked like mad to get the house clean. A friend came early the day of the party to help with last minute preparations. My father grilled meat and several guests brought excellent bread, side dishes, and desserts. Culver’s donated four ice cream cakes. The celebration began, people showed up, and I got to read a speech. We had good food, good conversation, and a very good time. It was exactly what I needed to find closure.

I pondered for days how best to say “thank you” to all the people who helped me get through the days of treatment with my sanity intact. I think the final version of the speech did a pretty good job of saying how I felt. It helps if you remember that the theme of the celebration was Life Can Be Beautiful. Odd that a brush with cancer would lead me to a renewed hope for the spirit of mankind, but it has.

Read Sunday, October 15, 2006…

Thank you all for coming.

Today marks the one month anniversary of my last treatment for breast cancer. It is Sunday, a day of rest, and a day of celebration.

As some of you know, I sometimes express my emotions through poetry. I intend to share two poems with you. The first one is very short, and it is called “Cream in My Tea.”

the cream in my tea
hangs suspended
until stirred

unique little patterns of milk
standing apart
until forced to blend

like people in a group
individuals
until a common goal unites them

a job a war
a rescue
a Reason to stir, then blend

Through various acts of kindness, your individual actions created a symphony of support during a difficult time. Whether it was a flexible schedule at work, or a card, baby sitting Kelric, or food, money, time, or just asking how I was doing, it counted. It all helped. Thank you for stirring to act in some way, and for blending your kindnesses into a web of support. It means more than we can ever say.

I’m one month out from my last cancer treatment, and things look good for my future. For the present I have my energy back. My color is back. And I am so very happy that nothing is poisoning or zapping me.

The second poem is one that was published in the Austin International Poetry Festival’s Di-verse-city anthology in 2004.

The Flowering Vine
(A Woman’s Strength)

Given time, I can strangle stones.
My green tendrils seeking purchase in tiny cracks,
Clinging to rough walls
As my roots grow deep, grab hold, stay.

Mine is the strength of endurance.
Wind may blow but it cleans me.
Sun may bake but it feeds me.
Rain may drown but I drink deep.

And I grow…
With subtle, quiet progress, I thrive.

And when I bloom, everybody notices.

I feel like I’m blooming today.

I remember people quoting to me, “That which does not kill us makes us stronger.” I have to tell you, I knew going into this that I was strong enough to survive it. I was just mad that I would have to be that strong.

Nothing could make cancer treatments easier, but you helped make it bearable. Thank you, all of you, for showing me how wonderful people can be. Thank you for reminding me that Life Can Be Beautiful.

Since the party I have found peace. My world no longer revolves around surviving breast cancer. Since the party I feel that I can close this chapter in my life and that feels healthy and appropriate.

Now I can focus on just living. Routines and patterns are shaping without cancer treatments causing waves of disturbances. Oh I’ve got a mammogram coming up next month and follow-up visits with my breast surgeon and my oncologist for the rest of my life, but this is part of the “new normal” and it doesn’t scare me. I’ve stopped obsessing over the fear of recurrence/metastasis. I’ve got one last cancer poem that I would like to finish, but I think I will be inspired to write poetry about other topics soon.

Next month the November 2006 issue of Parent:Wise Austin should be out with Kelric and me on the cover and the article about mothers with cancer inside. You can download a PDF version of the magazine from their web site, http://www.parentwiseaustin.com/, so you folks who live out of town/state can read the article as easily as the people who live in Austin.

I’m going to walk in the upcoming Race for the Cure on Sunday, November 5th. I will continue volunteering for things that benefit the Pink Ribbon Cowgirls and the Breast Cancer Resource Center. I am interested in becoming a peer counselor for other young women going through treatment. But there is a part of me that now breathes a sigh of relief. A part of me draws a deep breath and quietly says, “It’s over.” Life will certainly have other unpleasant surprises down the road, but for now I am allowed to let my family rest and I can enjoy the contentment. Life can be beautiful, and you know I will look for that beauty now more than ever before.

Angela

Previous - 48 POEM: The Flowering Vine
Next - 50 E-mail: wait...but there's more