I cry alligator tears on every single drive home from any cancer support group or meeting I have ever attended.
I can’t explain why very well in words.
The guest speakers, mentors, and event planners are always lovely people who support the cancer field which I am grateful for. They put on amazing, informative events for cancer patients and their families.
But it is the audience I can’t keep my eyes off of.
They are just regular people listening with intensity; for it is their lives that are on the line.
And when they share their cancer chapters of their life stories, I can’t help but feel sad and think , “Oh, I’m so sorry, you had to go through that!”
And then it dawns on me that I am next…to tell my own cancer tale. I am one of them!
I can barely hold in the tears during the meeting and then they let loose usually while I scramble to find the keys to open my car door as I leave. I always wish my name was not permanently on the “cancer party list,” even though it always will be now.
But the past meeting was my first time I did not cry.
I seemed to be the winner of the most lost body parts and surgeries.
I seemed to be the winner for tumor size.
I seemed to be the winner of length, of strength, and of duration of healing treatments.
I was the winner with the cancer gene mutation.
And yet when it was my turn to share, instead of sharing the list of things I did not want to be the winner of, the words came out of my mouth;
I was thankful…
I drove home in silence.
It was then I realized I had grown up.
Time does help heal…