It’s been almost two months since I’ve completed radiation, closing the “active treatment” chapter of this journey. It’s a new chapter now. I’m still figuring out what it is. It’s certainly not a “going-back-to-normal” kind of chapter. There is no going back in life, for me or anybody else, I find. When I shared with my therapist that I’m struggling to integrate the cancer narrative into my life story, she suggested that integration is often messy. It’s not weaving one strand into the existing fabric as I had imagined; it can go multiple ways at the same time. Integrating little pieces from “before” into the now, like going back to my weekly yoga class, albeit on Zoom, which felt great.
I’ve had a few email exchanges and work-related conversations in the past weeks, and it felt right. I missed it; it’s a significant part of who I am. In less than a month I’m supposed to be back in the classroom. Part of me is longing to come back since I enjoy teaching so much. Another part of me is afraid. Once your life is interrupted the way mine has been, it’s hard to find trust again. One of my courses will be in the same room where on January 26th I saw a missed call from my doctor and listened to the voicemail that said that we should talk the next day. I don’t know how I feel about it and I won’t know until I step into that room in January. Imagining the first mammogram “after” is even harder. Again, I’ll feel what I’ll feel when it comes.
It’s Hanukkah time, a holiday of lights and miracles. We need it more than ever. I wish the miracle of healing to myself and to the world. Let’s hope we generate so much light that darkness won’t matter anymore.
Katerina Bodovski Writings 