My Five-Year Cancerversary

Yesterday marked the five-year anniversary of my metastatic cancer diagnosis. I have been anticipating this day for over a month, trying to think of how I want to celebrate it and what it means to have made it this far. I have now outlived the average life expectancy for a stage four breast cancer diagnosis by two years. On the one hand, it is so hard to believe it's been five years, and on the other hand, if my life had been on the same trajectory as many women, I would be dead by now. 

What a surreal experience it is to imagine your own death and what life would be like for everyone if you were no longer here, to think about having missed out on all the events of the past two years. There have been some serious lows over the past two years, the biggest of which was watching my dad die. I sure wouldn't mind having missed out on that experience. I see his cancer-ravaged body in my mind's eye over and over, and that image never fails to break my heart and make me wish I could unsee it all, unlive it all. 2019 was a year of loss in general. I went to six funerals last year, five of which were due to cancer. I could have missed those, too.

And yet - I'm thankful to have had the past two years. Despite the many hard times, I'm still glad to have taken one more trip around the sun and to have discovered the joys from literal trips to the Pacific NW, Utah, Yellowstone, and the Grand Tetons. As my fictional kindred spirit said, "Dear old world, you are very lovely, and I am glad to be alive in you" (Anne of Green Gables, L.M. Montgomery), quarantine and all.

I am here celebrating life and that I've survived this disease for so long, and at the very same time, two of my fellow patient ambassadors, who have been in the program longer than I have, shared the hard news that our drug is no longer working for them. This is life with metastatic breast cancer. One minute you're celebrating, the next you're in tears because someone else's journey has taken a turn. Tears for them, but also for you - because you're wondering yet again when that will happen for you. When will you get the inevitable news that your cancer has spread? Will it be with this scan or the next?

I've gotten comfortable with my good reports, month after month, year after year. I never forget I have cancer, but most days I can pretend like it doesn't impact me much. I hold my breath after every scan, but this is my normal now. And then people I care about have progression. People I care about die. And the reality of my life comes back into sharp, painful focus.

My browser's grammar editor is telling me that the tone of this post is disapproving. Why yes, it is disapproving.  I disapprove of cancer. Its disapproval rating is 100%. It does not get my vote. I do not recommend it. Zero stars. It is like the thief Jesus talks about in John 10:10, who "comes only to steal, and to kill, and to destroy." It has stolen my chance to have children; it has taken literal pieces of my flesh and my everyday peace of mind. It has killed my dad and my friends and destroyed my dreams for the future. It is a thief and a robber.

But what Jesus says immediately following changes everything. Jesus declares that He came "so that [we] might have life and have it more abundantly" (John 10:10). That thief tries his best and accomplishes a lot, wounding us terribly, and even making it seem like death has won, but he doesn't have the final say. If we belong to Christ, we live, even if we die, because Jesus is the resurrection and the life (John 11:25). His ways are most definitely mysterious, but we will understand it all in time. 

Five years is a lot to celebrate. But it also feels like the clock is ticking even faster now. Have I done what I want to do with my life? Because in one way, I've passed my expiration date. I don't have a bucket list or a ten-year life plan. What does that life Jesus promises look like for me? I certainly think the abundant life is as much about our inward flourishing as any outward signs, if not more. But how that plays out in a single life, I don't know. 

I've been given life, though. I was given the last five years and I've been given today. It seems like I might even be given tomorrow and some time into the future, day by day. And while I continue to have life, it seems there must also be abundance, right here and right now. And that is what I'm going to chase after for the next five years.