Garden of Dandelions

This morning I wandered down the grocery store aisles with list in hand, had a friendly conversation with the Starbucks baristas, tossed my bags in my car, and headed home.

Typical, ordinary morning.

Much like the one I had a year ago today. I ran errands that day too before work, began planning in my head what I needed to pack for Spring break, and oh, yeah, made a quick stop at the imaging center for my mammogram.

A stop that would stop me in my tracks.

One. Year. Ago.

We meet again, March. And you are weirding me out because of all the dates and memories associated with you.

A quick stop for my mammogram before work-March 6, 2018.

Having no clue a year from that date, I'd be typing this blog entry, still without the full range of motion of my left arm, running my hand over my fuzzy crew cut.

What. On. Actual. Earth.

And it's one of those bizarre things where it feels like yesterday but also like a lifetime ago.

Like time's stood still but also like I aged 5 years in one.

The entire month of October is dedicated to breast cancer awareness. When social media and ads are adorned with pink ribbons, inspirational quotes, and pictures of beautiful bald ladies uniting together.

But I hope you are just as aware in March. On your ordinary days. Dropping off kids at school. Getting your oil changed. And scheduling that mammogram you've been putting off.

Last night I went to a concert at the Kauffman Center for work. The same Kauffman Center I toured the day I got the call with my biopsy results-March 22, 2018.

Another surreal reminder date coming up.

You've certainly come in like a lion, my friend. Stirring up all the feels.

On one hand I'm glad to see you because it means I've made it through a year. Ask any cancer survivor and they'll proudly tell you how many years out they're celebrating.

On the other hand, it's hard for me to face you. Because my life before you, before cancer, is slipping farther and farther away and I've already forgotten bits and pieces of what it felt like.

But I'm learning to embrace this new life. This "beanie baby", as Drue affectionately referred to me these past 6 months, packed up my beanies and donated them back to the wonderful boutique I got them from. Except my favorite one. That one I'm keeping. Unless David donates it to Goodwill like he did the tote of baby clothes I was saving as keepsakes.

I'm blending back in now instead of standing out as a cancer patient. People just assume I got too clipper happy with my short locks. And I have zero doctor's appointments this month. After having a slew of them the previous 12.

One of our sweet bridge players who calls me "Kersten" saw me today and said, "I'm still praying for you every day. I don't know your last name so I just pray for 'Kersten who works at the Community Center' ". Thankfully, He knows just who she means and has been faithful to carry me through this past year.

I better wrap up this update...I've got a beanie to go hide!