I am haunted. Haunted, not by the ghosts and ghouls I sometimes write about, but my past. On any given day you wouldn’t know, I keep it buried deep inside. Why do I hold onto it? Most of the time, it’s the furthest thing from my mind. But every spring it bubbles to the surface. My thoughts and emotions become saturated by its darkness. I push it deeper, but it’s never truly gone.
Do other survivors feel the same way? You live with it and in fear of it the rest of your life. An open wound you must continually redress. Maybe it’s just me. Maybe, it’s because I was seventeen years old. It’s a proven fact the teenage brain’s chemistry is an alien thing. All those hormones are up to no good, triggering misfires and reaping chaos. If I’d been five years old I might not even remember. And if I’d been thirty-five I would have had the maturity to cope.
But I was seventeen when I had Cancer.
My battle with Cancer seventeen years ago has been on my mind recently. It’s the time of year for Relay for Life. Seeing the signs around town and hearing the advertisements on the radio is always a trigger. God forbid I have to talk about it too. My daughter attended the local high school’s Relay for Life. When she came home sharing what a great time she had I couldn’t help but cringe. I told her about my first Relay for Life, how I barely had the strength to finish a lap. That was the day after I finished my last round of chemotherapy.
Amanda Makepeace's Imagination Run Amok 
You piece made me think that you were writing about yourself . . . which is a good sign (I think.) My mother died of lung cancer and I can’t imagine a worse way to go. She was a bit drugged up and delirious at the end and I was nowhere near her, but my sister was there at the end. Sigh.
In writing a story about a cancer survivor you will no doubt bring up a lot of other stuff for your readers. Good, bad, and otherwise …
Yes, I was writing about myself. It was not an easy thing to share, but I think it was therapeutic. I decided when I committed to Story a Day this year that I would include a few nonfiction pieces. Just as it’s good to read outside of one’s comfort zone, so too is it good to write on subjects that challenge us. At least that was my thinking when I decided to write this today. Being ill with Cancer as a teenager affected me immensely, even played a role in the person who I became.
I’m so sorry about your mom. I know reading this must have touched some difficult feelings. (((Jan)))