Moving through it

I’ve tried to starting writing this about 10 times. Every time I sit down to put something in this text field, I suddenly remember something else I need to do. I think my avoidance of the topic is interesting evidence of trauma, in that I can’t trust that this good thing is going to last. Something bad is going to happen now, I can feel it. But before I let myself get sidetracked again, let me start.

Little man rang the bell. His cancer treatment is over. He doesn’t need home meds or clinic meds or lumbar punctures (spinal taps) anymore. He’ll still have monthly check ups and blood tests for a year, then every 2 months for another year. So in two years, he’ll officially be a survivor. Maybe I should wait to rejoice until then, just in case.

I don’t mean to sound like such a downer. It’s just been a whirlwind since last week when he was finally done. We got to go to Orlando with Make-A-Wish, which is really as great an organization as it appears to be from the outside: incredible people who did everything they could to make last week and the lead-up to the trip as special as possible for our boys. We had a blast, all of us, and now we’re settling in to this new normal back at home. We’re planning a big party to celebrate him and say thank you to everyone who helped us over the past two and a half years, and I find myself spiraling over plans instead of being so grateful that he made it through.

I’m scared.

I’m scared it’s going to come back, even though there’s no indication in his labs or any other test he’s had in the past 2 years since he’s been cancer-free. The original disease came out of nowhere, so why wouldn’t a relapse? I’m afraid something else is going to happen because we went from miscarriage to covid to cancer, so trying to relax and be thankful feels a little foolish, honestly. What’s next? Are we going to have a big party, only to wake up to some new horror?

Wow, this is not the post I thought I was going to write. But I think this is why it’s taken me so long to sit down and put something out there. This fear is blocking my ability to feel gratefulness and joy in such a big moment. There’s a separation between what I want to feel (what I think I should be feeling) and what I’m actually feeling, and just trying to shove it aside isn’t working.

So there it is. I’m still scared and am afraid to relax and feel joy. I’m working on getting this out of my system. Thanks for bearing with me, as this collective “you” has been doing all this time, through all my angry, rambling, sad, hopeful posts since this all started. I couldn’t have done this without you, and that’s the truth.