I alternate daily, even momentarily
Between embracing 
Being a survivor
And shunning it completely
Choosing to be in denial that I ever had cancer at all

I still get furious
That a fit and healthy organic-eating vegetarian 
Who never smoked
Rarely drank
Exercised and meditated
And at the age of 29 
Got goddamn cancer 
A cancer that normally affects men in their 60s 
How was this possible?
Why did this happen?

And then there is 
Survivor’s Guilt 
Why did I survive?
Why am I here?
What is my purpose?

I also have Survivor Jealousy 
There are actors who had cancer
And they're on Broadway and television 
And working and performing while having treatment 
And I think
Fuck, I couldn't even walk during treatment and they're singing and dancing 8 times a week?!
Which I wholeheartedly understand and own as completely insane 
No one has a good time going through cancer. 
Cancer is horrible. 

I still tire easily
I still have terrible, raging, crippling depression
I've lost my libido 
And I want so much to just 
Be Better

I don’t want to be recovering anymore 
I just want to be well
And able
And fit
And not stacking on weight because my hormones are now post-menopausal 

I want to be out auditioning
And singing
And going to classes
But just doing the 9-5 
To pay the bills
Takes all my energy
And leaves me feeling miserable 

I wasn’t like this Before. 
I could cope
Work two jobs
Go to classes
And still do shows 
And trip the light fantastic
Now it’s a miracle if I get out of bed and make it to work without crying

I’m a survivor
They say
You’re so lucky
An inspiration! 

But I’m just treading water
Fearful that at any moment
The shark will attack
Again
The thought is terrifying 
Every headache, every prolonged pain and moment of difficulty means
It’s back
Recurrence, relapse
Will I have to do this all over again? 

So I pretend it’s not there
I’m totally fine
I book tickets for shows after work because
It’s only a show right? I can manage that
But I get home and my body is in so much pain
So fatigued and wiped out
All I can do is lie on the couch and try not to have a nervous breakdown that I simply
Am Not Ready

They told me 
If all went all
Treatment would be done by Christmas
They didn’t tell me
The average recovery from a stem cell transplant
Is three to five years 
I’m a year and a half out
I don’t know if I can wait another a year and a half
The getting better is so incremental 
And I just want to be well

This process of being a survivor
Is fucking hard
I want to be (in the words of Elizabeth Gilbert) 
Heliotropic 
I want to turn my face to the light
And see the positive
See the good
Feel joyful that I’m alive

Life is like a rollercoaster they say
Like that bit in Parenthood
Where Steve Martin is freaking out and 
Grandma tells the story where Grandpa once took her on a rollercoaster 
“It was interesting to me 
That a ride could make me so frightened 
So scared, so sick, 
So excited and so thrilled all together
Some didn’t like it
They went on the merry-go-round,
That just goes around
Nothing.
I like the rollercoaster. 
You get more out of it.” 
I want to be like Grandma
But right now I’m still Steve Martin
Having a panic attack

I want to be Steve Martin
Joyfully
Playing the entr’acte
In the Broadway show
I’ve written and crafted out of love 

And sometimes I just have to remember
To Breathe, Just Breathe
The name of my own goddamn blog 
Oh the irony

Yes, I’m in remission
I survived
Three rounds of chemo
And full body irradiation
And having my sister’s stem cells injected into me 
And my nails falling off
And the skin of my feet cracking and peeling
And the contents of my stomach rising to my throat
The sensation that I’m falling
The sensation that I’m dying
My own blood turning against me
Attacking me from within 
For reasons yet, or perhaps forever, unknown 

I am a survivor 
And some days I wish I wasn’t
But I’m trying 

I am ok, really.
When I remember 
A year ago I couldn’t even ride the subway
And now I do it five or six times a week!
I work full-time! 
I’m taking piano lessons! 
Yesterday I went to an art exhibit and had coffee and went out to a bar!
A year ago I could barely walk to the markets and back, forget carrying the shopping
Now I can do it, and still have the energy to meet a friend! 

I have this gorgeous, wonderful
Incredibly patient and loving husband
Who has taken care of me through it all
Stroked my back when I was curled up next to the toilet bowl
Dressed me when my fingernails hurt so badly I couldn't do it myself 
Driven me to appointments
Sat with me while I screamed and cried and railed against the unfairness that is this disease
And despite everything 
He is by my side
And oh how I love him so. 

This is life after cancer
I’m not a patient patient
I want to be a thousand percent better yesterday
I want to never have had stupid cancer in the first place 
But I did
And here I am.