
A year ago yesterday, I sat down in my doctor's office and got told what I already knew in my bones -- the biopsy had shown an overwhelming likelyhood of cancer. A year ago today I posted a long entry about the report and the treatment I would be undergoing.
And now it's a year later, and it's done, and all that's left outwardly is a scar that I'm slowly growing used to, tactless con-goers notwithstanding.
Inwardly, it's another matter. Inwardly, it's still like the elephant in the corner of my head. I know I got lucky, and had a great outcome from an easily treatable disease. The very small, not especially insistant voice that talks about recurrance is still there, but the same part of my mind that knew what the diagnosis was going to be 2 months before I got it says that it's not going to come back.
I think what troubles me most is an incredible see-saw between two extremes - I feel like I've been defined by this, but also that I shouldn't have been because it wasn't really that big a deal.
I wonder if I'm kidding myself in thinking that I dealt with it ok.