I was asked this week if (and I’m sure I got it worded wrong here, but this is the gist) I felt like I had to cheat death more. You know, sky-diving, bundgy jumping, that sort of thing. The answer is no. I never wanted to do those things before I got cancer and I still don’t want to do them.
I’m not sure what the outside looks like but the changes I see in me are all internal. I don’t feel stress the same way, my whole day isn’t ruined by it. I feel it for a few minutes then do what I gotta do and get over it. I don’t feel out of control. I don’t feel panicky where I used to, in crowds, thinking of flying in an airplane, not being in control of situations where I didn’t have control in the first place.
Has having cancer made me value life more? I hate to say it but I don’t think so. I still don’t have a bucket list, I don’t feel the need to go out and do things because who knows where I’ll be next year. I still don’t have all my ducks in a row. I still view having had breast cancer as a huge inconvenience that disrupted 8 months of my life. I don’t see it as a wake-up call to be a better person for what remains of this life. I don’t feel the need to make any changes to who I am or what I do.
Yes, having cancer, and beating it was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do but not to the point where I’ve had a life altering epiphany. I am still me. I may be self-conscious of having short hair and no boobs. But I am still me.