1 year, 12 months, 365 days
It has been a year since I was diagnosed with cancer, a year since I started writing about it, a year in which everything that has been done to fight it has allowed me to be here today, in good shape and ready to get back on track.
This year has both knocked me down and enriched me intellectually. It has opened certain doors for me, such as writing, and has reinforced my understanding of the importance and true nature of letting go, because it's not enough to say, “I don't care,” you really have to not care. It has also led me to reflect more deeply on my shortcomings, my flaws—you know, all those things we store away in the mental equivalent of a “moldy box in the basement,” promising ourselves we'll deal with it someday, or maybe not...
In a way, even though I'm not completely out of the woods yet, I've somehow achieved my goals with this blog, including some I hadn't even set for myself:
- release me from the burden of the disease but also remember it in detail
- express the patient's point of view by developing ideas, feelings, and emotions a little more than a Facebook post would allow
- possibly help other patients anticipate what lies ahead in terms of disruption to their daily lives, their relationships with others, and the reassessment of their priorities
- pay tribute to the magnificent work carried out by all these healthcare professionals, as well as the kindness and importance of my loved ones, family, and friends
- laugh as much as possible about all of this and keep some detachment from yourself and what you are going through
O blog, suspend your flight...
So I think I'm going to stop or at least suspend this blog until further notice, because I don't really see the point of repeating what I've already said, of rewriting about the same exams and the same consultations every month. I don't want to repeat what has already been experienced, described, and shared, and I hope I never have to consider a season 2. The blog will therefore become a site bringing together other texts of mine that will, no doubt, perhaps, probably, who knows, have nothing to do with cancer, but will exist because of it.
Thank you, casual readers, regular readers, distracted readers, loyal readers, anonymous readers, friends, sick readers, healthy readers, for taking the time to read my words. I hope you will continue to do so when I'll write about other topics. Thank you again for all the incredible feedback I have received from all corners of the world. It has supported and encouraged me, convinced me of the value and usefulness of what I write for others, and shown me that my approach is understood, that I am not just here to complain or feel sorry for myself.
I send my love to you all and wish you a wonderful life. See you soon.
