Skip to main content

"There's Always Tomorrow": A final thought on #BloodCancerAwarenessMonth

Wrapping up Blood Cancer Awareness Month with a huge thank you to Ashley Rodgers for her expert answers to reader/survivor FAQs about cancer's emotional roller coaster. (To see the whole Q&A series, click the #BloodCancerAwarenessMonth hash tag below.)

On a personal note: My daughter Jerusha, five years old in the photo here, went with me to many of my chemo treatments, including one on her sixth birthday. Today she is a fabulous 24-year-old freelance editor, and this summer, she donated bone marrow to a six-year-old child with leukemia through a national anonymous bone marrow registry. I can't begin to express how proud of her I am.

(For more information on how you can help someone with a life-threatening blood cancer, visit Be The Match.)

Of all the songs that spoke to me during the journey of my own cancer experience (and the continuing journey of survivorship) is this anthem from Gloria Estefan. The first time I heard it, I was weeping in the ladies room at my oncologist's office, and perhaps it sounds melodramatic, but by the end of the song, I had changed. I had let go of an old life that was not working for me and embraced a new life that has been ridiculously blessed. To this day, I can't hear it without crying.

For me, "Always Tomorrow" captures all the longing and regret I felt with my diagnosis, thinking how differently I would have lived had I known my life might end so soon. It also speaks to the hope and determination to go forward and the acceptance that remission doesn't mean everything is okay, and it definitely doesn't mean "back to normal."

Things will never be the same, the only one sure thing is change. Remission means you have this moment to start over again and steer that change with love.

Peace, love and joy to all my fellow survivors, along with the energy to embrace a beautiful tomorrow.







Comments

Popular posts from this blog

"The Curious Case of Benjamin Button": Did you love it or hate it?

Earlier this week, Colleen and I went to see "The Curious Case of Benjamin Button", the extraordinary movie based on a short story by F. Scott Fitzgerald. I loved it. Colleen not s'much. (I was sitting there choked in tears at the end of the three hour film, so I only vaguely remember her saying something about "watching paint dry.") I want to see it again, so I'm trying to get the Gare Bear to go with me this weekend, but I won't be surprised if he reacts the same way Colleen did. The movie is long. And odd. It requires patience and a complete suspension of disbelief that modern audiences simply aren't trained for, so you've got to be in the right mood for it. The same is true of the short story, though the story and script have very little in common -- at least superficially. The story is very Fitzgerald (though it's not an example of his best writing, IMHO), and the setting -- Baltimore during the industrial revolution, Spanish Americ

APATHY AND OTHER SMALL VICTORIES by Paul Neilan is only good if you enjoy things like laughter

The only thing Shane cares about is leaving. Usually on a Greyhound bus, right before his life falls apart again. Just like he planned. But this time it's complicated: there's a sadistic corporate climber who thinks she's his girlfriend, a rent-subsidized affair with his landlord's wife, and the bizarrely appealing deaf assistant to Shane's cosmically unstable dentist. When one of the women is murdered, and Shane is the only suspect who doesn't care enough to act like he didn't do it, the question becomes just how he'll clear the good name he never had and doesn't particularly want: his own.