Okay, so I guess I am coming back to life. I have spent most of my time since the last chemo sleeping. I wake up, eat, then go back to sleep. It is almost like living in a dream world, except when you are awake you do not feel very good. The stomach is a little off and the head feels hazy. Everything inside of me feels like it is suspended in Jell-O. It feels almost like walking around in someone else’s body. I know the feelings and thoughts are mine but the physical appendages do not seem like they belong to me.

It is kind of a weird thing to have this part of the journey behind me. The last chemo – I have faced that demon for the last time. The body is just amazing. All the poisons, all the chemicals, and still it keeps bouncing back. A little slower each time, but it keeps bouncing back. It is my mind that I have to struggle with constantly. The physical body seems to repair itself and get ready for another day. It is the mental, emotional, and spiritual components I have the hardest time with.

One reason it is strange to have finished chemo is that now I am not in a battle. I am waiting. That probably sounds funny to most of you: What is she talking about . . . waiting?  During chemo, at least you feel like you are doing something active to defeat this beast. But now I wait, hoping and praying that the chemo did what it was suppose to do – rid the body of any stray cancer cells that might be lurking about, hidden from sight.

Some of you may think all I do is sit around looking for trouble. That isn’t true, but my mind is always thinking – studying – wandering – and yes, worrying. I feel as though I have this little “c” riding around on my shoulder. It is always there, not really bothersome, but still just there. It is sitting there smoking a cig, drinking coffee, reading the paper – but still it is there.

I am not cancer, but just like my sexuality and my alcoholism, it is part of who and what I am. Can’t you just imagine the two of them, little “c” and alcoholism, sitting on my shoulder, having a good old time whispering in my ear? I envision them high-fiving and chest bumping every time my mind starts off on one of those crazy thoughts.

For me, this has to be about living one day at a time. Looking too far into the future can be a scary thing. As I’ve said before, I cannot imagine hearing the words, “Your cancer has returned.” I cannot imagine what it would feel like to have to battle through this chemo again, to face this sickness. So it is important that I just stay right here where my body is today. I can do something about today. I can rest and repair my body. As I look at my armor, it really is in good repair. It came through all these battles in remarkable shape. It has done its job.

One of my nephews said to me, “Sissy, you have been a warrior all your life, not just now.” And I realized that he knows me better than many other people do. It is true: I have always been a warrior. Always fighting for my life, one way or the other. Fighting to be accepted for who I am; to not take the easy road; fighting, suffering, hurting. But always trying to be true to who I really am, deep in my core – to be true to what I believe in and to the things that matter to me. Not going along with the crowd, not just fitting in, because sometimes that is not who I am.

I am not perfect by any means. Maybe some of the things I have fought for were really not worth fighting for, but at that moment in time, they seemed worth the fight. I have fought for the right to live my life in a way that feels honest, kind, and caring to me. I think that is all I have ever really wanted – to be a good, kind, caring, loving being. Life is life and we all must accept and deal with whatever life sends our way. That is what I am trying to do with my writings. Find my way.

Thank you for reading my posts, and for your love and support.