Journey Out of Pink

Yesterday, I attended a survivorship appointment at the cancer treatment center. I had mixed emotions as I drove to the center. Part of me was excited to finally be reaching this point and another part of me was scared to death. What was going to happen next? Would the constant cancer care rug be pulled out from under me? I had no idea. All I could do was wait and see. Traveling up to the third floor, I signed in at the receptionist's desk. This floor was unfamiliar to me. Most of my appointments had been on the first floor where the sickest of the sick usually were. That's where the port room was located. That's where the halls were lined with recliners to help make patients more comfortable as they waited to have blood drawn, scans done, or poison dripped into their bodies. I was well acquainted with that floor. I'd been there many, many times but thankfully, I'd never had to endure the trauma of having a port inserted into my body since I'd refused chem

I had no idea she'd die so soon. We'd only been friends for a little over a year, but during that year, we'd shared so much. We shared the same diagnosis, the same stage of cancer, the same grade tumor. Our lives were parallel. It just didn't make sense. Both she and I had chosen to forego traditional treatment routes. We'd opted for natural treatments. We'd shared each and every possibility in hopes of finding things that worked for one another. At times, it felt like it was a game. "Have you tried this?" Or, "No I haven't tried that, but have you tried this?" And in those moments, we developed a comradery like no other. We were sisters, even though we didn't share any familial ties. My sweet friend, Lori and her daughter "Why not me?" I asked myself. Why was I allowed to live and she had not been? Trying to make sense of the situation was ridiculous. Cancer has no rhyme or reason. It takes whom it will, when it w