It’s been a year.

One year since I was suited up (button-down pajamas, comfy sweatshirt, sandals, cozy blanket), stocked up (office bag, books, puzzles, snacks), and psyched up (let’s get this underway!) for my first chemotherapy treatment. I would have four such treatments of some of the harshest possible chemotherapy cocktail, cisplatin and pemetrexed, to continue treating my lung cancer. Today, I’m still feeling the effects.

Cancer Took

I completely expected a lot of what cancer took away from me in the early days, including energy, endurance, and more than half of my left lung. I wasn’t quite expecting what more it would take along the way, including the ability to sleep, favorite foods, television shows, movies, craft projects, mental focus, and so very much more.

But I endured. At the time, the feeling of action and accomplishment – no matter how much of a struggle or how unpleasant – helped push through each treatment. I could count down from one to the next, knowing there was an endpoint and believing that after reaching that predetermined endpoint, life would improve.

Cancer Keeps Taking

What I didn’t know a year ago was that cancer just keeps on taking. One small and seemingly insignificant example – apple cider donuts.

A year ago, upon arriving for my very first infusion, I discovered that the snack center provided to patients and their caregivers had a package of apple cider donuts. I adore this seasonal treat, sweet with apple flavor and coated in cinnamon sugar. Apples are my favorite fruit, and it goes without saying that I’m a wee bit fond of donuts. Bring the two together and it’s always a good day.

That just isn’t true any longer.

Did I enjoy the apple cider donut at my first chemotherapy infusion? Yes. It was a fun treat and made the day brighter, a “reward” for all the uncertainty and pain and disability I was going through.

What I didn’t realize at the time, what I couldn’t realize for a year, is that even now, the very thought of apple cider donuts triggers a trauma response and a gag reflex so powerful I feel physically ill. That treat is now so strongly associated with chemotherapy that I can’t hardly even bear to look at them stacked in the grocery store without being taken back to the very feelings, smells, and sounds of my infusions.

Cancer took away my donuts.

More Things Missing

A seasonal snack isn’t the only outwardly innocuous thing cancer took. Just a few…

• Favorite medical drama shows that mention cancer just too many times.
• Volunteering capability as my energy and schedule cannot accommodate it.
• Friendships from those who have politicized cancer research and treatment.
• Furniture so associated with post-treatment days it can no longer be used.
• Storage space that is now dedicated to cancer meds and equipment.
• Clothing that no longer fits due to cancer weight gain (yes, it’s a thing).
• Work productivity due to lingering effects and ever-more appointments.
• Activities I’m still scared to do because of remaining breathlessness, including birding.

I’m very well aware that my situation could be far, far worse, and I remain grateful for the team around me, the treatments available, and the support I’ve received.

What I never could have guessed, what I never could have known, was just how never-ending this journey would be. Yes, I will be getting scans for the rest of my life. No, I’m not wallowing in self-pity every moment of every day. But yes, I will be a cancer patient for the rest of my life.

What Cancer Won’t Take

There is one thing cancer hasn’t taken yet, that I won’t let it take: my life. I’m still here, still working full-time, still fighting, still living as best I can. Are there bad days? More than I care to admit.

But there are positives. I can travel. I have a wonderfully supportive husband. I can do nearly all the physical things I enjoy, albeit I am still scared to attempt the more rigorous.

I am here – but I will not remain here. I will not stay in the exact position I am today, just as I didn’t remain in the position I was one year ago. I will continue moving forward, I will spread my wings further every day.

Have I lost things along the way? Yes, very much so. But I will not lose myself.

Keep on flying.