I really wish the title was a lead in to a great story about playing baseball, hitting what looked like a game championship wining home run only to have it snatched away by a leaping leftfielder who reached above the fence to pluck the ball and my heroic moment out of the sky. Unfortunately, there was no baseball playing and no great story. The feelings in my story are much the same though.

Five years ago today my life was irreversibly changed when my doctor walked into the room and said, “I’m afraid we didn’t get good news.” Just last year at this time I remember thinking that next year would be the year to celebrate because five is the magic number for cancer survivors. If you can make it to five years cancer free without recurrence, your odds for survival are great. I’m starting to wonder if I was ever cancer free during any of that time. I feel robbed.

Even in the shadow of recurrence last October, reaching five years is indeed something to celebrate. It just doesn’t feel like it. There is a blemish on that record and celebrating five years feels like cheating. All day long my heart has been heavy with tears easy to surface. I am proud of how I have handled the cards cancer has dealt me, but today, and only today, I hate that I have to play this game at all.

Labels: milestones, Recurrence