Time…..oftentimes we never think about how finite our time is until faced with some tumultuous event that suddenly and sharply brings into focus that the end can come sooner rather than later. Or that those damn results we’re waiting for are taking FOREVER. So wait…finite or infinite? Depends on the lenses in which you’re looking through. Upon hearing my diagnosis, time seemed to crawl. Waiting for an appointment with the oncology team. Waiting for more tests the results. Surgery. Chemotherapy. Waiting to hear if it all worked.
Then somewhere along the road of treatment it hit me….how fast time was moving despite my feeling that it was all taking forever. Before I knew it I was done with treatment and told to go live my life. The life that had completely changed and now seemed so very short, to be zipping by at that speed of light we’ve all heard of. How is it 2019? Stupid statistics make me all too aware of TIME. Time that not enough cancer patients have yet others do. Time stolen from another Metaplastic sister yesterday. One too young to have her time end. Not a battle lost, but a woman who lived until that life was stolen from her. Cancer is a thief. A time monster who takes indiscriminately from whom ever is in its path.
What is my perception of time now? I hear it ticking so very loud every day. That ticking has pushed me from “someday” to “right fucking now”.
So cancer I say to you #fuckcancer and the stupid BRCA gene you rode in on.