(38 Weeks)
Surviving cancer is a big deal. 2024 marks ten years for me.
I feel odd at times defining myself as a cancer survivor. I was one of the very lucky ones. It was caught early. A lumpectomy and four weeks of radiation. That’s it. I opted against chemotherapy. After much research, I believed, in my case, the risk wouldn’t outweigh the benefit.
Reminders that I was still technically in treatment however, came in the form of daily prescription medication, an annual trip to Memorial Sloan Kettering – even after my move to Illinois – and the fact that I could no longer live in denial, believing I was someone who wouldn’t – couldn’t – get cancer. And although the latter will stay with me for the rest of my life, ten years is worth celebrating.
There were many milestones this year marking that journey ten years ago and I wasn’t sure which one to celebrate, so I decided to celebrate one of the last ones.
The 10th anniversary of my diagnosis was March 19. That day wasn’t one I wanted to celebrate per se, but it was the day this year I had my last annual checkup at Memorial Sloan Kettering in New York and the day I launched this Sixty Weeks to 60 blog series. Kind of a coming full circle.
The anniversary of the surgery that removed my cancer was May 7, a week before my 59th birthday and 10 days after the 10th anniversary of my marathon PR. That was my only sub-4 marathon and a record likely to stand as I’m not sure I’ll ever have – or even want – the kind of motivation I had that year ever again. I let those milestone dates pass without acknowledgment.
The last milestone occurred a little over six weeks ago on July 5. That was the day I took my final dose of Tamoxifen. I had been on a daily regimen of this estrogen blocker to treat my hormone receptor-positive breast cancer for 10 years. I remember when it was prescribed and how I thought, “wow, I’ll be 59! [My daughter] will be 24!” It seemed like so far away. And yet, here we are. I don’t feel as old as I thought I was going to, but it does make me sorrowfully aware of the rapid passage of time.
The day I decided to celebrate, partly because it falls last on the calendar, was yesterday. August 19, 2014, was my last radiation treatment and the day my oncologist called me NED. No Evidence of Disease. That was a good day. Ten years ago, I celebrated quietly since I hadn’t yet told many people what I was going through. Although I had given up dairy back in March of that year, I treated myself to a small vanilla cone from a Mister Softie truck parked on 68th street along my route back to the subway towards home.
Today – the first day of the rest of my life – I’m getting a tattoo to mark the occasion and just may stop for a small vanilla cone on my way home.
Ten years older. Twenty pounds heavier. Much slower. Still running. Still surviving.
Did you really think this wasn’t going to include a fundraiser? It’s me. Of course it is! Over the course of these 60 weeks, I am hoping to raise $6000 for the children of Mercy Home for Boys & Girls (that’s just $100 a week!). To learn more about Mercy Home and my why, please visit my fundraising page. Thank you.
