Seriously?
There's something I need to get off my chest.
No...not that.
Something else.
My phone has apparently joined my oncology team.
I haven't even started chemotherapy yet, and somehow my phone has decided it's time to prepare me for every possible scenario known to mankind.
Open Facebook...
Wigs.
Check Instagram...
Cooling caps.
Read the news...
Chemo sweatshirts.
Google the weather...
Support groups.
Scroll a little farther...
Breast cancer walks.
And just when I thought I'd seen it all...
A camp that claims it can naturally cure cancer.
Really?
Dear Social Media... We Need to Talk
Listen...
I know you're trying to help.
I understand your fancy little algorithms think they're doing me a favor.
But I don't need a daily reminder I have cancer.
Trust me.
I've got it covered.
Every appointment.
Every blood draw.
Every conversation with my oncologist.
Every calendar reminder.
I promise...
I haven't forgotten.
I'd Like to Pretend for Just a Little While
The funny thing is, I haven't started treatment yet.
Right now, life still feels...mostly normal.
I go to work.
I laugh with friends.
I worry about golf tournaments.
I wonder what's for dinner.
I binge-watch shows that probably aren't making me any smarter.
And every once in a while...
I actually forget.
Not forever.
Just for a few precious minutes.
Then my phone pops up with an ad that says,
"Need a wig?"
No.
Actually, I was looking for a pair of shoes.
Cancer Gets a Chapter...Not the Whole Book
Here's what I've decided.
Yes...
I have cancer.
But cancer doesn't get to become my entire personality.
I'm still Elizabeth.
I'm still the girl who laughs at inappropriate jokes.
I'm still planning fundraisers.
Still annoying people by talking too much.
Still trying to figure out why at 60 I get a pimple.
Still finding reasons to laugh.
Still looking for Blessing Cakes.
Cancer gets a chapter.
It doesn't get the whole book.
If You're Going to Spy on Me...Do Better
Since we all know our phones are listening anyway...
Can I make a few requests?
Instead of wigs...
Show me puppies.
Instead of chemo blankets...
Show me baby goats wearing pajamas.
Instead of cooling caps...
Show me sunsets.
Show me people dancing in the rain.
Show me stories that restore my faith in humanity.
Show me miracle creams that claim to actually work.
Show me something that reminds me life is still wonderfully ordinary.
Because this is what I miss the most.
Ordinary.
The One Thing I Can Control
There are a lot of things I can't control right now.
I can't control what tomorrow's scan will show.
I can't control how chemotherapy will make me feel.
I can't control whether my hair stays or goes.
And apparently...
I can't control my social media feed.
But I can control where I place my attention.
I can choose to laugh.
I can choose gratitude.
I can choose to notice the people who love me.
I can choose to keep living instead of simply preparing for treatment.
And I can choose to keep looking for the blessings that somehow continue showing up—even in the middle of all this.
Because every day doesn't have to be defined by cancer.
Some days can simply be defined by living.
In the Spirit of Health & Wellness
— Elizabeth
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