12/20/20: (1 Year Post-Chemo) Cancerversary

One thing I did not expect going into this whole cancer journey was having so many new dates seared into my memory. June 17, 2019 was the day I was diagnosed, a.k.a. the day I found out my boobs were trying to kill me. August 23, 2019 was the day of my double mastectomy, a.k.a. the day I had to start figuring out how to accept being permanently disfigured. And December 20, 2019 was the day I finished chemotherapy, the end of the most grueling part of active treatment.   

It doesn't really feel like it's been a whole year since I finished chemo. This past year has been such a mess with the coronavirus and the presidential election, time didn't really seem to pass in a normal manner. 

Mostly I can't believe that even after a whole year, my hair is still so short. I still don't like it, and I still don't feel like myself.

As with all my other cancer milestones, I don't really know how I feel, exactly. My short hair, flat chest, and persistent side effects of hormone therapy are daily reminders that still make me feel like a cancer patient. The pandemic is making this time of year feel more somber than festive, but I have to admit that I don't mind not having any big holiday gatherings; I am pretty sure that if we were expected to go to social events and be merry, emotions would be masked, and participation would feel obligatory. There's also the added weight of the anniversary of my mom's passing (December 29), so really, I am very content to stay home every night and enjoy some peace and comfort. The extra quiet of this year's holiday season suits me just fine.