Milestones & Anniversaries

Posted On July 29, 2024

My most recent session with Mike (my therapist has a name, I know, shocker) we talked about milestones and anniversaries. My question to him was, why as humans do we place so much emphasis on milestones and anniversaries? His question to me was, why as humans do we place so much emphasis on milestones and anniversaries?

Whether we’re celebrating them or dwelling on them, we seem to acknowledge all different kinds. As parents, we celebrate our babies’ milestones, as kids we celebrate our birthdays, and as adults we celebrate anniversaries- all kinds of them. 

We celebrate death anniversaries, for a while at least. But somewhere in the mix we stop acknowledging death dates, at least publicly. 

Mike reminisced on celebrating the Anniversay of his father’s death for the first five years, but then stopped after that, making it just another day.

We let holidays be celebrated, and sometimes ruined with death anniversaries. We let birthdays be both celebrated and ruined, and we let significant dates of our own life events be celebrated and sometimes ruined.

So with my one year anniversary of my cancer diagnosis rapidly approaching, I confessed I am not celebrating, but I’ve let it ruin my last few weeks. I’ve ruined them with anger and sadness alike.

One year. I could be celebrating the fact I kicked ass last year. I could be celebrating the fact I’ve withstood 26 rounds of chemo, 28 rounds of radiation, a double mastectomy, morning/noon/night sickness, colitis, dehydration and neuropathy. I’ve withstood all these things for one whole year. And look at me! Just look at me.

On the other hand, I am angry and bitter. I was supposed to be done with chemo on December 18, 2023, followed by a double mastectomy on February 5th, and rounding out that chapter with a year of immunotherapy.

But I’m not. That didn’t happen. My other warriors, now survivors, are done with their treatments, moving forward with their lives, rebuilding their lives that no longer revolve around chemotherapy, mapping out every possible rest stop on a two-hour drive, endless doctors appointments and transitioning to 2024 A.C. (after cancer).

But I am not. I am still living in D.C. and my hobbies are slightly different these days. Like reading, I’ve taken up something that requires zero physical strength… reading.

Three weeks into the start of treatments- Meg Beckman, 49, of Teutopolis.

Two weeks after surgery- Gavin Waterman, 17, of Mattoon.

Three weeks into the start of my second round of treatments- Gary Griffith, 53, of Newton.

Five days after my 33rd birthday- Dustin Borries, 33, of Effingham.

Two weeks after completing radiation- Marty Hartke, 40, of Neoga.

One day into the month of July- Mindy Reardon, 44, of Effingham.

After self-induced panic attacks thinking I will be next, I had to stop looking at them. I can no longer read them. I don’t read them. I won’t read them.

But that doesn’t mean the news of such just stops. Whether you hear it in passing, or read it while scrolling. It doesn’t get easier. The worry never stops. The tears don’t quit. Tears for people I don’t even know and tears for myself, tears for my girls, tears for Jake.

What if. Mike tells me to stop putting one foot in the grave, but I also am a control freak who needs to be well-prepared and needs things to be planned. Every other day I reread my will, making sure everything is mapped out accordingly. Every other day I remind Jake that if I do pass, he has to brush the girls’ hair every day. EVERY DAY, damnit! Every other day I remind myself, I’m not going to die from cancer, and I’ve fought too damn hard for that nonsense. Every other day I remind myself I could die from cancer, because it doesn’t care who you are or how hard you fight. Every other day I worry my girls will be angry if I leave them to navigate this cruel world without a mom. Every other day I remind myself if I should pass, they will have the biggest support system any family has ever had and there won’t be a worry in the world for them.

And every other day I worry they’ll be forced to dwell on an anniversary no one wants to celebrate.