It’s kind of funny. I’m typically a person that detests anything to do with numbers and time. A diagnosis of cancer obviously changed that. It has become even more apparent with these blogs that I write that I depend on numbers and time much more than I ever would have anticipated. This blog, much like the others, hinges on these two concepts of time and counts. A year ago today the first drips of chemotherapy ran through my picc line and entered my blood stream. This is because my monocyte count was too high, my red blood cell count too low, and if not addressed quickly my time on earth would run out. Since then my concept of time has become increasingly thoreauvian. My focus since my treatment began has been on the appropriate ways to spend my time and not waste my life like I felt I did while hospitalized. An entire month was spent restricted to a space comparable to a dorm room without the ability to come and go as I pleased, the hourly visits from nurses and other hospital personnel, and dependent upon the visits of friends and family for personal human contact. My little celebration today is that I do not need to spend time in the hospital and can live a life outside of Sloan’s hospital walls.

I am not yet considered in remission for a year (that celebration happens in March) but it has been a year since I began my cancerous “journey”. It is hard to wrap my head around the difference three hundred and sixty-five days can make. Three hundred and sixty-five days ago I did not know if I would be alive today. I did not know if I would have my bachelor’s degree, I didn’t know if I would see another Valentine’s Day. Seven hundred and thirty days ago I could have never imagined writing a cancer blog. Today I cannot vision not speaking out about my experience with cancer. Life can change slowly, and then in an instant. That is what happened when my chemo began to run into me. It was a slow drip that only took a second to change my life. Being alive and out from consistent monitoring of doctors and nurses is my little win for the month of February. So when I go outside today and walk around the block, play with my dog, and eventually go for a little drive, I will be so much more appreciative for these small moments because I know someone out there is denied those little life moments. I should know. I was one of them.