Two weeks ago, I went for my twenty-second chemotherapy treatment. It has become old hat to show up, be told my bloodwork was great, get hooked up, and sit for four-ish hours while drugs pour into my body to continue to eat away the breast cancer that had taken up residence in my left boob and seeped out and onto my bones. I had had good report, after good report, and had even been told I may only have to be scanned once a year since I was the model stage 4 cancer patient. Get this girl a poster and put her face on it, for goodness’ sake.
I don’t always see my oncologist before treatments but was scheduled to do so this go around. Every time I see Dr. Falkson, she does a physical exam. When she did the last physical exam about eight weeks prior, she had commented, “I can’t even feel anything.” (I’m a cancer rockstar, what can I say?) But this time, I felt her body language tighten as she took a second pass over my “bad boob” and felt the chill in the air as she turned to wash her hands.
“It could be nothing, but I feel some fullness there that I don’t remember feeling before. Let’s go ahead and do the six-month scans and make sure we’re still on the right track.”
That’s all it took. Fifteen months of five-star reviews and one hypothetical step backwards, and I was reeling right back to where it all started. Logic left the building and I was drop kicked down the rabbit hole that inevitably led to me wondering what songs they will play at my funeral. (I beg, please no “I Hope You Dance” by Lee Ann Womack. No shade, Lee Ann.)
I tuned out. I ignored the months upon months upon months of miracles and blessings and answered prayers and put on my red “Make Haley Anxious Again” hat and went to work crafting the worst-case scenario. I was a physical and emotional wreck with a hairpin-thin trigger to dissolve into a blubbering mess of tears anytime I even thought about the long game of my life. Easter was the worst. Will I even be here next year to hide eggs? Who will buy their Easter outfits? Who will force Bobby to take the kids to stay and wait in line for over an hour at Bass Pro Shop for the terrible free photo with the Easter bunny where the store employees don’t even look before they snap the camera?
And then I got good news. All that horror and fear and despair for news which was manageable and overcomable. I wasted an entire week of my life with “what if” instead of focusing on the logic and truths I was suddenly deaf to.
It got me thinking . . . how many days have I wasted BC and AC (Before Cancer and After Cancer) worrying about or trying to control things that weren’t controllable or attainable or impactful enough to warrant my mental energies? At the end of my life (Lord willing, way far in the distant future), what will I regret entertaining or giving more weight than it deserves?
I wasted a day expecting an apology from someone who wasn’t even aware my feelings were injured or didn’t care instead of spending time with someone important.
I wasted a day scrolling through social media, quietly but powerfully simmering with envy over what I perceived to lack instead of focusing on the overwhelming blessings all around me.
I wasted a day pretending to enjoy something I didn’t instead of nurturing my natural gifts and interests.
I wasted a day waiting to get started on something that would make my life better in the long run — be it a chore, my health, or a commitment that I was dreading. Getting going is always harder than keeping going.
I wasted a day trying to write my future instead of enjoying the immediate narrative of my life.
I wasted a day expecting someone to show up for me when I hadn’t shown up for them previously.
I wasted a day thinking of all the reasons something wasn’t my fault instead of admitting the parts that were my fault and learning from my mistakes.
I wasted a day avoiding conversations and events with people that I didn’t necessarily like instead of spending that time trying to get to know them and find common ground.
I wasted a day worrying what other people would see in me instead of changing my eyes to see the best in other people.
I wasted a day worried about my future health instead of enjoying the good health I had that day by exercising or doing something active or meaningful.
How much time have I wasted focusing on all the wrong things? It’s a construct we often pose but rarely can make strides in changing. But in my situation, when the future is so uncertain, I can tell you, focusing on the joy in every single day is the only way to live my life. And it should be the only way to live yours. Learn from my situation (without having to have cancer) that life is truly a gift and worrying is wasting your seconds, your minutes, and your days.
