Anyone that has been diagnosed will tell you that there are three separate people residing in one person when one is told he or she has cancer. There is the you before you hear those words. That person is conscious of death but those who not seen death, and I mean really seen it, can hold those thoughts and images at bay. Death is always around but it is still possible to live without thinking about it every single day. When one hears the word cancer, that person dies. Cancer takes over your life. You are no longer able to do everything you used to. Oftentimes you do not look the same as you did before treatment starts. The focus of your life becomes living. Death is knocking at your door and all you can do is focus on keeping that door shut and not letting it in. Once the cancer is gone, you change again. Not for better or for worse. You just become different.You can not go back to the you you were before. You know too much; have seen too much. Felt too much. You can be similar but never the same. You no longer go through treatment and can let go of being the medicilaized person you’ve come to know. But there is no turning back. You are a different you. Wiser maybe. More conscientious. Aware. You find a different rhythm to life. Maybe the shift is visible. Maybe its not. But its undeniably there. A rift inside yourself. Shredded. Maybe a little broken and torn. Maybe not. Yet no one can ever cross back to being the exact same you you were before.

Tomorrow I turn twenty five. This is the most lethargic I’ve ever been towards any of my birthdays. Its not because I’m unhappy—I’m not. It is just that now I celebrate other more important things now. Instead of looking forward to my birthday, I’m excited to reach the one year mark of my remission. Not that the year mark means anything. It does not. But it’s a number, a marker I can hold on to.

Ever since I have been in remission from AML, my life has been a series of firsts. This is my first birthday since diagnosis. It is a happy birthday. Not because I get presents or I get to go out and have a drink or seven with my friends. It is a happy birthday because I am here for it. Last year’s birthday had a different feel. There was a different energy surrounding that day. I think all of those that surrounded me knew it was going to be some kind of last. Everyone made a big effort to make it special. We were all riding the high of being told I still was cancer free but we also knew that the high would be short lived. After all, every rise must have a fall. But maybe today, my last day being twenty four is my last day holding onto what happened to me this year.

Twenty five can be a scary number for some. It is intimidating. Its close to thirty. Twenty five means walking a line between wanting to hold onto a carefree childhood and wanting to do really “grown up” things. Twenty five is not scary for me. It’s a new start. A post cancer start of the rest of my life. Happy Birthday to me.