The journals I had kept during my treatment for cancer were my attempt to figure out who the heck I am as a person and what the hell am I supposed to do with this cancer diagnosis. The cancer diagnosis was quickly and significantly reshaping every aspect of my life and had changed the course of my life. I will never know how my life was supposed to be before cancer. I will never know that because I walked through that door of a life changing event and when I turned around to go back, cancer locked the door and threw away the key.
I enjoy writing so much that it is natural for me. Why did I stifle myself for so many years by not considering myself a writer or making an attempt at the craft? I did not allow myself to develop this part of me in a natural process, but it was there the entire time. When cancer knocked on my door and invited herself into my life, I had to do something with her. I couldn’t hide from her, nope, she was going to be apart of my life, no matter what I did.
My diagnosis was mine to have. I even went so far to make sure there wasn’t a mix up in my pathology results and questioned the hospital’s pathology review process with my doctor’s staff, not once, but twice. Seriously, since when did I become a doctor and acquired the ability to create a pathology department’s protocol and standard of care. But, I had to ask the questions because it was part of my process. Honestly, I was hoping my bad fortune would not be mine at all. A rather horrible joke the universe was playing on me.
I had my surgery, a double mastectomy (which creates a whole other set of emotions, but that is for another blog post), and I happily said goodbye to cancer.
But, not without the very slow and gentle unveiling of my Writing. Writing for myself and discovering all aspects of who I am, every creative expression and thought process. Sometimes a locked door forces you to open another one. And that I did. I opened a door to a part of my soul that was patiently waiting for me irrespective of how I got there.