Feeling the love
July is just around the corner and that means it will be my birthday soon. I will be 35, and I say that with great pride because getting older in this uncertain world (i.e., living with a gemistocytic astrocytoma) means appreciating every day.
A few years ago I posted a rant on Facebook about being annoyed whenever a woman celebrated her 29th birthday, again. Wink, wink. Months later a friend proudly announced she was no longer going to celebrate her 29th birthday AGAIN in solidarity with her friends with cancer who count each year as a blessing. I thought that was rad.
30th birthday: best birthday ever
PHOTO: Some of my friends taking me rafting down the American River.
My first seizure and subsequent diagnosis came just 5 days after my 29th birthday. It was a crazy year with two brain surgeries, the begin of chemo, all kinds of new anti-epileptic medication, and the loss of a job and health insurance. Just madness.
But people who cared about me--and even people I didn't even know--rallied around me (and Brett) during the madness.
By the time July rolled around again, everyone I knew was rooting for me. My 30th birthday was an adult milestone, the first anniversary of surviving, and a reason to celebrate.
Brett arranged for an epic weekend. I had three parties--three desserts--and went on a rafting trip down the American River.
There is something special about having cancer that really brings the love out of people. It is a good excuse to tell people how much they mean to you. My friends didn't hold back their feelings.
I felt loved and popular. And I was OK with the world.
