I'm at the Cancer Center this afternoon. It's not anything important -- hopefully. Just a little something I feel like I need to get checked out.
It's one of those things that never leaves you -- the cancer. You think you are past it and then it sneaks up behind you and taps you on the shoulder to make sure you are never fully comfortable in your own skin again. I will be fine. I'm sure it is nothing. But I am here - just in case.
It's interesting being back. Two and a half years ago I was neck deep in treatment. All the nurses knew who I was. Fellow patients would see me and give me that slight nod that said "Hey Friend. Its okay. I'm in the same boat". I belonged in phlebotomy and the chemo rooms. It's what I was here for and everyone could tell.
Today it's different. I'm still a patient, but no one can tell that from the way I look. Maybe it's the full (but slightly thinned) head of hair I am sporting. The healthy pallor of my skin - no more pale and yellow here. I feel one step removed and on the edge of not belonging.
But every time I hear the "BEEP-beep, BEEP-beep" of the IVs in Chemo or the soft voices discussing meds and treatments, I'm reminded that there is a part of me that will always exist here. The memories of the Me that was sick will always be lurking somewhere in the Cancer Center. It's too real to ever forget what those months in treatment were like.
And I am hoping, for all the people I am sitting with right now, that their futures include remission or cures. I hope for that, so very much.