For the last several years, I’ve participated in what I call the “Thank a Day” movement during the month of November. You’ve probably seen it on social media. The idea is to post something you’re thankful for each day from November 1 through November 30. It can be as grand or as small, as vague or as specific as you want. The point is to remind us to embark on a daily search for something good.
Sometimes it’s a struggle to find something every single day. Especially these days, when the world seems to be going to hell in a handbasket full of molten lava. And last year pretty much sucked in countless ways for a hell of a lot of people. But I firmly believe there’s something to be thankful for every single day. Even if it’s just seeing a cute dog while you're out and about.
(Shout out to the magnificent German Shepherd I saw this morning, strutting his/her stuff like a king/queen.)
My “thankful fors” have ranged from the broad “I’m thankful for my family/friends/pets/job” or the “I’m thankful for my health/financial situation” to the oddly specific. I’m thankful for hot showers and strawberry shampoo. I’m thankful for the way the sun lit up the steam from my morning coffee. I am also thankful for the “undo’ button when I hit a wrong key and deleted this entry!
But there’s something I never, ever thought I would say I’m thankful for. And if you told me last year that I would feel this way today I probably would have kicked you in the shins.
I am thankful for my cancer diagnosis. Not for the cancer itself, but for the universe forcing me to reprioritize and put myself first. It gave me permission I didn’t even know I needed. Suddenly, everything took a backseat in my life except for my well being. I never used cancer as an excuse for being lazy (“I can’t do the dishes because I have cancer”), but it was a valid reason why some things needed to be set aside (“I can’t attend the Zoom meeting because it’s two days after chemo and I will be useless.”). Before cancer, if I were feeling under the weather or overwhelmed, I’d put my head down and force myself to do whatever I needed to get done. Any other way was simply not an option.
And I’ve kept that attitude, though I’m past the active treatment phase and am feeling back to what I’ve come to refer to as “the new normal.” I find my courage is greater. If I want to do something, I do it even if (sometimes especially if) it means doing it by myself. Now I schedule work around my life instead of the other way around. Before, I’d try to shoehorn all my doctor visits into that one day a week when I didn’t work until 1:00. Even if it meant waiting a couple extra weeks for the doc’s schedule to align with mine.
That’s terribly impractical when you have to schedule tests and chemo and radiation and follow-ups with various doctors. I still try to honor my work commitments, of course, but if I get a doctor’s appointment that doesn’t mesh with my work hours...I’m going with the doctor appointment.
(And I am beyond incredibly thankful to have a workplace culture that goes along with that choice.)
Cancer changed my entire viewpoint. “Someday” is now. I wasted my twenties. I spent my thirties caring for my mother. My forties? My forties are mine. I have a whole bucket list of things to get through. Let’s get going.
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