Surviving

How do you calculate survivorship? From the time you first learned you had cancer? Or the date you had surgery to remove it? Or that wonderful day when treatments are finally finished?

And what if you get a second cancer? Does the time clock start over?

These are questions I've pondered with my friends. And I think we've determined that our survivorship began when we had surgery. I know my doctors considered me a survivor after that day.

But when can you consider yourself cancer-free? Or in remission? After 5 years? 10 years? And what constitutes a long-term survivor?

Honestly, is anyone ever truly "cancer-free"?

(I just discovered an amazing article that discusses all these questions: When Can I Say I Am a Breast Cancer Survivor?)

On February 20, 2014, the one-year anniversary of my diagnosis, I celebrated tentatively with a post called One Year In. I was happy, but still nervous. I couldn't wait to get to the five-year mark, at which point I thought I would really feel like a survivor. And then I'd be halfway to the ten-year mark when I figured I'd be home free.

Looking back, reading that post, I'm struck with the realization that I still celebrate my "cancerversary" the same way. I rejoice that I have another year post-cancer under my belt. I ruminate on the ways that my life is different now because of facing cancer. And I wonder how long I still have.

Today, I'm celebrating six years since my first surgery. It feels really good to be over halfway to ten! 

And yet, I know full well that cancer could rear its ugly head again at any time. It already did, almost 3 years ago. And what did that second cancer (NOT a metastasis) do to my survival status? My doctors have said over and over that those tiny tumors (yes, they found yet a third cancer in the cross-section of my lumpectomy) are not even worth worrying about. According to them, my triple-negative cancer 6 years ago was "the big one," and my survivorship keeps counting from that day.

But I can tell you that I also celebrate the years since my second cancer, and will be thrilled when I'm ten years out from that date, too. 

There's nothing like a life-threatening illness to make you feel like you're living on borrowed time. But . . . we're all living on borrowed time. The illness is just a reminder.

I recently told another survivor friend who is awaiting more tests: we know Who holds the future, and we know Who holds our hand¹ . . . but we can't help holding our breath while we wait.

However . . . here's another truth: God even holds our breath! In ancient Babylon, the Jewish official Daniel reminded King Belshazzer of "the God in whose hand is your breath."²

I find that super comforting. I don't have to hold my breath ~ because God does! I will keep breathing, surviving whatever comes my way, "all the days of my appointed time."³

However long my life may be,

He holds the schedule in His hand

And doles my days out graciously.

I trust His perfect plan.

¹"I Know Who Holds the Future," by Alfred B. Smith
²The Bible, Daniel 5:23 (ESV)
³The Bible, Job 14:14 (KJV)