A Little Cat and a Lot of Cheer this Year!

Destroy the Christmas tree? Me? I would never!

Our kitten is slowly destroying the Christmas tree, and I’m okay with that. His name is Varjak Paw, after a cat in a book which Caleb’s beloved grade-four teacher read to his class, and to Annika’s class a couple of years later. Varjak is a sassy little guy, with slightly bowed front legs that give him an exaggerated swagger when he walks. He regularly attacks Cleo’s tail, in attempts to get her attention and have a good wrestle. He also likes to climb inside the fridge when someone opens it, and has been known to lick the butter if the cover is left off. We have surmised that one night he pushed a full chicken off of the kitchen counter so that Cleo, who was waiting patiently on the floor, could eat it. The roaster was licked clean when we got home, and both pets were hiding nervously in the playroom, but they didn’t need to worry.

I just laughed. We all laughed and laughed. It is hard to get upset about little things these days.

You see, my scan was clear. My oncologist told me I am cancer free. It is a wonderful thing, a truly fantastic piece of news. The best Christmas present ever, for the whole family. And I am full of gratitude and happiness. Every moment from now on is a gift for me, because I faced a life-threatening illness and survived. I am a survivor now.

I’ve been struggling to write this blog post, because part of me wants to wrap this whole experience up, put a bow on it, and say, “I’m done with this, it is over.” I feel pressure to do that. I keep saying things like, “onwards and upwards!” or “That is over, now back to normal life!”

But cancer changes you.

An old friend messaged me and said, “I am thinking of the thoughts, perspective and knowledge you’ve experienced.” I responded, “I feel utterly changed. And yet entirely like myself.” I am still processing the whirlwind that was the last ten months and, for some things, there just really aren’t words. There is understanding, though, and shared experience.

As I was thinking about how to write this post, I received an eloquent e-mail from another friend, who is a two-time cancer survivor. She said that if she had had something like this blog to read when she was first diagnosed with cancer she would have felt less alone with the disease. She thinks that many people who are dealing with a cancer diagnosis will find solace here.

I am so thankful that she sent me that e-mail, because I was reminded of why I started writing this in the first place. I remembered my poor, scared self sitting up in the middle of the night searching the internet in a desperate attempt to find people who had been through what I was facing. And then I realized that human beings are inherently messy, and that I had to continue to be honest.

So I will tell the truth, so that other people will not feel alone with these types of feelings and reactions.

I have a lot of physical, emotional and psychological changes to deal with. Some of them will heal and resolve over time, and some are here to stay. I will write about them honestly in the days to come. I will write about them knowing that I am extremely fortunate to be here everyday. I can enjoy this Christmas holiday without thinking it may be my last.

My wonderful oncologist said she thinks I will live a long time. I’ve pondered these simple words of hers a million times. I recite them in rhythm as I walk each day. And, although I no longer wake up sweating in fear in the middle of the night, I have to acknowledge that my life has been deeply altered by this whole experience.

I’ve been wanting to write this post for a while now so that I could wish you all happy holidays and share the good news. But I couldn’t present a neat and tidy ending to this cancer experience. Is anything in life ever that clean and clear?

We can celebrate happy news and enjoy the holidays. We can hug our loved ones and be filled with gratitude. And we can learn and grow and reflect and feel sadness, too. It is okay.

Merry Christmas and Happy Hanukkah, my friends. Here’s wishing you the courage to share a host of human emotions, the ability to laugh at the little things, and an abundance of good health throughout the holiday season and into the new year!