Goodbye Monster.

People keep telling me about this documentary called “Crazy, Sexy, Cancer”.  I’ve searched Netflix, Blockbuster, and Redbox and haven’t been able to find it.  Finally, I borrowed it from the internet and Iate last night I was able to sit down with my mom and watch it.  Wow, just wow.  I have never related with anything or anyone so much in my whole existence.  Kris Carr, is a young, brave, beautiful, 20 something-bad ass, with a rare and terminal kind of cancer. The film follows her as she eloquently navigates through an all too familiar and real process of coping with her devastating diagnosis.  I totally dig her and in my fantasy Cancerland we are already BFF’s.

My soul's been needing a fresh outlook and little extra swagger.  Lately, I've had a particularly difficult time when it comes to waiting for test results.  Last night, I tossed and turned relentlessly knowing that in the morning I could potentially receive devastating news. Today, is the day I hear the results of the genetic test that I fought so hard for.  Today I might find out why I have cancer.  I had a full panel test done, the rage of possible ailments that could be strung along my DNA are sobering, at best.  Ideally, the results will be negative.  In a perfect world, my results would score negative across the board.  Meaning my cancer was likely a freak mutation and unlikely to ever reoccur again.  Negative results would significantly reduce my chance of ever having cancer again.  Lightning never strikes twice, right?

Today, at 10:45am, with fingers and toes crossed, my results were read.  Negative.  Negative, all the way across the board.  I have no syndromes or markers in my DNA that caused or will cause my cancer.  My DNA is gorgeous, radiant, and healthy.  As soon as those words escaped her lips, my shoulders dropped. Then, for the first time in six months, I felt myself exhale.  I’m not broken!  There is nothing wrong with me!  And the best part is, I haven’t passed anything dangerous on to my children.  I have often used the analogy of “The Monster”.  Right now the Monster has its grip on me; his hands are wrapped tightly around my neck.  If I am able to shake the Monster off, even if I escape his grasp this time, he will always be chasing me.  I'll forever wonder when the Monster will catch me.  It's an awful way to feel, to live in fear of your own body.  In constant waiting for the other shoe to drop.  Not anymore.  I don’t have to and I'm not going to.  Today, I stared that Monster straight in the face and told him to go fuck himself.  I am whole and he can’t have me.