I went for my first Lake Michigan standup paddle on Friday at Montrose Beach. While on the water I thought about how much has changed since my last paddle last season, which for me ended probably early September. I wasn't diagnosed yet with breast cancer. I had found the lump, but I wasn't concerned, chalking it up to one of the many types of lumps women frequently feel in their boobs. In 9 months, I got the news, then completed most of my treatment. For cancer.
I am cancer-free now, and I wasn't then.
I sometimes rent a board from a shop at the beach. The same stoner guy works there every summer. He's friendly and always smiles hello, but doesn't use his words much, even when directly spoken to with a topic that begs a multi-word reply. It's OK. I can tell he's a man of about 50 words. He seems like he's misplaced, as if he should be on a beach in Southern California. But he's here, in Illinois, every season, faithfully.
When I got back to shore, he was sitting in the shop's golf cart they use to move gear, reading a book whose title I couldn't see (but tried). I don't know why I felt compelled to tell him what I realized on the water, but I did, after replying to his question about how my paddle was.
"You know, this is pretty wild, but since I was here last year, I found out I had cancer -- but I'm cancer-free now! It's OK. I've been through treatment, and I'm back on the water. All of that in 9 months. I can't believe it."
He so kindly listened -- that's how I think of it -- and looked at me warmly, and said, "Oh wow," and nodded his head, which is 2 more words than I thought he'd give me. So, that was a moment that I made him share with me. I made a comment about the wind or coming back next week or something and then headed back. No, I don't regret telling him.
Every day, I'm getting stronger physically and better at managing my energy. I'm doing my best to accept the things that are different (so annoying to have to wear a medical compression bra when I run!). I'm trying not to get too peeved at the financial hit that cancer gives you beyond medical bills (I could not contribute to my 401k). And I'm carefully balancing summer fun with rest. These are all good things.
I can't believe I'm paddling as if everything's the same. Wild.
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