g.

I’ve heard about The Healing Process in tones that make it sound like something to be approached with lots of Prayer and Yoga and Sprouted Grains.  For me, it’s a little more like getting over an intense crush: I mark progress by how long I go without thinking about it.  Perhaps eventually I’ll go an entire day without thinking about Grazelda, but that day has not yet come and maybe it never will: After all, in some way, the aftermath of Grazelda is the rest of my life. 

I do mark my milestones, though.  One year to the day after my last chemo treatment I got a tattoo on my backside, about at the height Grazelda used to reside.  On my front I have a 7-inch scar from my belly-button straight down because one egg in my right ovary attacked me.  And now on my back I have a mark that reminds me of how I got through.  g. reminds me of how well I can endure, my ability to write a darn good blog, and the sense of peace that I found pervaded my life throughout illness and treatment. g. reminds me of all the cards and emails and prayers and scarves and visits and meals and even the blog-lurkers.  g. reminds me of the selfless love of my parents and sister: the time and the tears they spent and the rugs and the eggs and lasagna they made.

Why g.?  Right now it’s a g for grazelda.  Lower case because she doesn’t deserve the respect of capitalization, or maybe because I usually sign my own name on e-mails in lower case as some bizarre form of e-humility/rebellion.  A period because she’s gone, or maybe because I got mine back.  g. could mean so much else, too: an initial of a future lover, a nonplussed reaction to the world as it is, or 9.8 meters per second squared.  Yup, I now have a universal constant on my butt.

Photo by Melissa

Some dear friends made this beautiful and delicious cake in honor of the occasion, one candle for my first un-cancerversary.   

Photo by Jennifer

This year, at the All Soul’s Procession, I walked in memory of Grazelda again.  [see last year’s post]  I refashioned an old pair of pants so that the world could see the g. (and nothing else!).  I wore the same shirt, but left the front down, so my scar was not the focus.  This year held more closure because I know that she’s dead and gone and not coming back. 

Today is not a cancerversary for me.  My life is not very much about cancer any more.  I spent this fall dancing a lot, finishing up pre-nursing classes, working and biking and cooking good things to eat.  One year later that’s all that remains: 2 scars, 1 tattoo, one less ovary, and a crop of hair that’s less curly with every trim.  I have begun to associate with the Tucson chapter of the National Ovarian Cancer Coalition, and am grateful for the camaraderie of fellow survivors.  I will continue to work alongside them to raise awareness, so that women can catch ovarian cancer early, and be cured.  That’s one cancer-y thing that will remain in my life.  But this blog is about Grazelda, and she is gone.  So this will be my last post. 

Wishing you plenty of greens and plenty of hair, 
peace and health,
and good friends when those things fail,

margaret