Dec. 6, 2021
Two years ago, I provided my ‘pound of flesh’ and picked the poisons I gambled would be my remedies.
Two years ago, I heard the words that the cancer was still inside me and that it would be growing fast.
I literally bought a book titled, “I’m Dead. Now What?” to collect all the information regarding my business affairs for my husband to use. It has an icon of footprints with a morgue tag on one of the big toes.
Now I use this book to look up addresses and account numbers when I need to check on things. And the radiologists can’t find any evidence of disease. And while I’ll never regrow the parts of my body that were cut away or dulled, this reverse Faustian bargain that every cancer patient negotiates appears to have held true (*fingers crossed*).
My latest surveillance tests display big fat zeroes, ‘negative’, normal. I’ll be moving from testing every 3 months to every 6 months for the next 3 years. My family and extended family is healthy (at least healthy-ish, which means stable and not bad and alive enough to enjoy life) and we’re all financially well-off. How often does the trifecta of healthy, wealthy and wise (enough to know not to take it for granted) occur in one’s life?
I’ll store this memory as an early birthday gift to me as I turn 40 this month, a birthday that I didn’t think I would originally make. I hope now that I’m officially a unicorn of a unicorn that I can bring luck, at least hope, to others facing daunting circumstances.