A New Year, Repentance and Renewal

Hey all.  Sorry for the hiatus.  I guess I just needed a break from the Big C and all it means to you and me (sorry, couldn't help myself, so cheesy).  Anyway, so to catch everyone up, on September 22, 2008, I, DT, had my final chemo treatment, which was appropriately celebrated with an invisible parade dancing through my living room with all the bells and whistles, including confetti.  A week later, my little parade was doused with honey as those of the Jewish persuasion (which includes me) celebrated our new year, otherwise known as Rosh Hashana (in case you didn't know, Jews replace champagne toasts with apples and honey to ring in a sweet new year).  10 days later came Yom Kippur, Judaism's most somber day, during which we repent our sins and promise to do better in the coming year while fasting for roughly 26 hours (even water is off limits).  Two days after Yom Kippur, I was dancing at a wedding, celebrating my friend, "Sexologist's", wedding.  Needless to say, although all of this activity was somewhat exhausting, it's hard to miss the unusual timing and symbolic importance of all of these events amidst my circumstances this year.  In fact, all the major dates related to my journey through cancerland have been somewhat auspicious, verging on the ridiculous.  So let's do a recap.

• Diagnosis - March 11, 2008 (My Birthday)
  
• Bilateral Mastectomy Surgery - April 1, 2008 (otherwise known as April Fools Day)
  
• ER/Hospital Fiasco (which I still need to tell you about) - June 13, 2008 (otherwise known as Friday the 13th)
  
• Last Chemo Treatment - September 22, 2008
• Rosh Hashana - September 29-October 1, 2oo8 (1 week post-treatment)
• Yom Kippur - October 8-9, 2008 (2 weeks post treatment)
• 10th Anniversary of Mother's Passing - October 19, 2008 (exactly 4 weeks after my last treatment)

Now to many of you, this may seem absurd; but the link to life, remorse and renewal is undeniable, even to the most cynical person, including myself.  Accordingly, I spent the Jewish holidays celebrating the end of this difficult treatment and contemplated the experiences I have endured throughout this year.  I have to admit, as trite as this may sound, the apples and honey I ate tasted sweeter this year and, although I didn't fast this year (a ritual which I observe every year religiously), this was the first Yom Kippur that I can remember where I was reduced to tears and actually mourned for the losses I have incurred throughout my life and throughout the past 7 months.  Now admittedly, it is likely that the effects of chemo made me more sensitive when facing themes such as sin, loss, remorse and renewal, but the reality is that I think that this entire experience has simply torn open a sadness and loss that I was previously unwilling to share or embrace.  When your body is weakened, it is difficult to hold up the defenses that usually shield the rest of the world from your inner sensitivities and inner emotions, so after 6 and a half months of accumulated damage to my body, I have been laid bare, exposing my fears and emotional volatility.  So this Yom Kippur, I let go of my facade and allowed my private emotions to fall out of me into the palms of my loved ones, a position which makes me extremely uncomfortable, but is also freeing at the same time.  To allow one's inner soul to be reached by others enables of a level of honesty that relieves you of the strain of navigating the image you think people want to see.  It's a humbling experience for someone like me, but in the end it has made me lighter and more able to embrace the person that I have become throughout this journey.  

So with my lighter self, it is somewhat fitting that two days after Yom Kippur, I headed up to the Colorado mountains to celebrate a wedding, one of the most universal symbols of new beginnings.  Although people treated me with kid gloves, unsure what to say to me and whether to completely ignore the fact that I had cancer or confront this fact and make sure I was feeling ok, in the end, like any other wedding, I ate, I drank (at one point accidently mistaking a shot of tequila for a glass of champagne... quite shocking to get tequila when you're expecting champagne!!!), and even managed to have some young guy who didn't know me or my situation ask me out on the dance floor.  Maybe there is life after the Big C!

Tomorrow marks the 10th Anniversary of my mother's death and to commemorate this day, I am doing a walk in support of the American Cancer Society with my oncologist and some of her other patients.  I was unsure whether I wanted to do this walk, considering how emotionally charged the environment will be, but then I thought, what better way to commemorate and honor both my mom and her sister, and begin the healing process for myself.  So tomorrow, I will not walk in honor of myself, but I will walk in memory of my mother and my aunt as a symbol that old patterns can be broken and life can prevail over cancer.  Admittedly, I still have a long road ahead of me (I still have other non-chemo treatments and surgeries over the next few years), and I'm sure I will have moments where I won't feel as strong.  But the time to fight is over.  It is now time to heal and resume my life as a "Cancer Survivor".

Thanks as always for reading.

Straight from the trenches,

DT