Milestones.
Hmmm.
I get it. I do. I understand why we mark specific moments or days or accomplishments. Sort of like anniversaries and I very much appreciate honoring those… But the milestone is a social construct, different than an anniversary, and one that needs some discussion.
Milestones are designed around any number of things: Familial expectations. Generational beliefs. Spiritual followings. Cultural rituals. Societal norms. They are also designed by statistics and bell curves and generalized patterns found in research. All these things are relevant, yes, and there are reasons milestones occur, yet the person on the inside of all those things may feel slightly different than what is expected of them from the outside.
Today marks 5 years from my official diagnosis. A milestone of sorts. (Actually, I’m not entirely sure if I count today as that conventional breast cancer milestone or if I have to wait till September 8th or October 1st of 2023 or October 22nd of 2023. . . . .*shrugs shoulders*) Nonetheless, today has significance.
It has significance, not because it’s some arbitrary milestone, but because it is a massively important anniversary. It was the day I got The Call. It was the day my denial was obliterated. It was the day where I had to acknowledge the harsh truth that cancer was about to change everything.
It has significance because on this day I remember that day and as it turns out, that day and this day are not all that far apart:
My primitive self feeling the trauma of hearing those words. My heart pounds. My spirit weighs heavy. My head aches. The black of the unknown overwhelming my entire being.
Then I knew next-to-nothing: What stage? Will I die? Chemo? Baldness? What is a mastectomy for real for real? How will I make it? My daughters, oh God, my daughters. Where did this come from? Why me? What have I done to deserve this? I need to know what this will all be like; I hate not knowing. Why? Why? Why?
And now I still know next-to-nothing: Will the monster return? When? How? Why?
Today’s anniversary matters. And that’s why today, the difference between anniversaries and milestones deserves a discussion.
In the #breastcancer world, “5 years” is deemed statistically significant. An important milestone. But from where I sit on the inside of cancer, I can’t get on board with celebrating this made-all-too-important milestone. I just can’t. Call me a cynic. But what is the difference between 3 years or 5 years or 12 years or 27 years?!, ‘cuz guess what, I know WAY too many people in my #cancerworld who have had recurrence happen no matter the day, time, year, whatever. Those microscopic cells don’t care. They don’t exist in trips around the sun. They don’t care about bell curves or statistical majorities. Instead, they are free to exist however they want, un-conformed to the time continuum.
So, while it might feel really lovely for people on the outside of cancer to use certain numbers to create milestones so that everyone can celebrate some arbitrary progress, those of us on the inside have a very different experience. The harsh truth we live with, that we have to acknowledge – is that those insidious little life-wreckers see these milestones as 100% insignificant.
I think this is partly what makes survivorship so confusing. I’m supposed to check off these milestones as I hit them – 5 years, then 10, then 15, then 20. . . . I’m supposed to be grateful each time. I’m supposed to be “that much more over it” with each one. I’m supposed to be “further and further cured” by each check mark. But guys, it literally doesn’t work that way!? Don’t get me wrong, I very much do hold deep gratitude for each moment I am NED and surviving because I know all too well there are people that wish for that rather than its alternatives, but the same time, I have to hold my very real reality and very real grief for never being free from those insidious little life-wreckers who don’t have to conform to time. I’m in this in-between of NED but not terminal with the potential to stay NED but also the potential to become terminal. Which is why these milestones make a mess of the inside of cancer, too…shall we get into that as well???!!! No? Yeah, it’s weird here. It sucks. It’s misunderstood. It’s tenuous.
I write all of this today for some very specific reasons:
- I’m relentlessly authentic and I feel it vital to share my perspective in hopes it sheds light on empathy.
- I want to offer my perspective so that others who might relate will feel less alone. Cancer is lonely. It’s hard. And it’s confusing.
- I want to offer my perspective so that those who think “just let go of it all and live life to the fullest” will possibly be softened to consider just why that attitude can drive wedges into important relationships.
- I want to continue to bring awareness to the BothAnd. The BothAnd is messy, I know. It would be much easier to see me pick the “just let go,” but I cannot do that. It’s not possible. Not because I’m wallowing. Or depressed. Or hopeless. Or playing victim. Or choosing unwellness. Or wanting attention. Or whatever one might think. Instead, it’s because it’s truly not possible. Recurrence is always my reality. I will always be stuck in that in-between no matter what milestones come to pass. I will always be stuck in that in-between until I either die with no evidence of disease or recurrence occurs.
As complicated as it is, in my BothAnd I can be both petrified of those damn little insidious life-wreckers for as long as I live and be grateful for my life as long as I get to live without them. And actually, THIS is far healthier for me than sticking my head back in the sand of denial.
So today, I honor this very significant anniversary because it honors all that has changed and all that will forever be changed. All that I have learned. All that I will keep learning. My BothAnds. My ‘everything is temporary.’ My win/wins. My ‘the hard places are powerful places.’ My grief and loss. My gratitude and gain. My relentless authenticity. My empathy. My clarified relationships. My capacity for compassion. My ‘live short’ and ‘love long.’ My ‘show up.’ My cancer companion. My cancer monster. My upside-down. My story.
What a day this is. I will not have it diminished by the “get over it” mentality. Instead, I will claim both its tragedy and its beauty.