This is a rather significant anniversary week for me. A year ago on Tuesday the lump in my breast was discovered. (I didn’t start blogging about it until May, when it was officially diagnosed, but it was a year ago I learned I might have cancer.) A year ago tomorrow I lost my job of 18 years, and everything that went along with it. Three years ago Monday my dog, Sam, died.
Usually when I look back at what I was doing a year ago, I think time’s flying. Not this year. I can’t believe it was only a year ago that that nurse found that lump. I can’t believe it was only a year ago that I cleaned out my cubicle.
The whole year passed by in a surreal sort of haze. A lot happened. A lot changed. There wasn’t much for me to do but put my life in the competent hands of several highly skilled doctors, hang on tight, and hope for the best. Somehow there was something comforting about that.
Now that the worst is over and my cancer is in remission and my spine has been more or less fixed, it’s time to rebuild my career. My life is back in my own hands again. I don’t know why, but I find it a little unsettling.