Yes, I know that I already posted that today is the third anniversary of my breast cancer diagnosis. But I wrote that post yesterday to mark the day, just in case I didn’t feel like writing. But it is now the real day, my family is still sleeping, and I have more to say.
I slept solidly last night and woke up well rested. However, I had nightmare upon nightmare. They basically boiled down to losing everyone and everything in horrible ways. I was uninvited to one of my very best friends weddings FOR NO REASON except that it was suddenly decided that I was a bad person. My daughter, in a moment of anger, made a false report of child abuse against me. She then realized the horror of what she had done when my psychology license was suspended but in nightmare land, the wheels of motion could not be turned back. There was also a weird little dream where I walked into Costco (nightmare!) and the store layout had been totally changed (nightmare times two!) I was then instructed by a woman at the makeup counter to use red lip liner on both my lips and along my eye lid. The last little dream may have had something to do with my daughter’s contraction of pink eye last week. The brain does weird weird things, let me tell you.
Not everyone is impacted by anniversaries of bad events the way that I am. And it’s not like I am sitting with a calendar, marking the days so that I remember. I have one of those brains that is very good at marking the passage of time. This is often a very handy brain feature. I am a good planner, for example. My good friend, Gina, died over 15 years ago, suddenly, a few months after giving birth to her son. It happened in August. Although enough time has passed that I don’t remember the exact date or the exact number of years, I still often have a mournful feeling in my body near the date of her death. August is also the month of my mastectomy and another very bad day in my life. On August 8, 2013, I found myself at work suddenly crying uncontrollably, after which I realized that it was the first anniversary of my mastectomy.
August 2014 was hard because we were on vacation and I found myself extremely anxious being away from home. My psychologist suggested that we avoid taking vacations during the anniversary times of bad events. I went back and forth about going away this weekend, Memorial Day Weekend, because of its overlap with my diagnosis date. (Yes, people, I not only got my cancer diagnosis right before a three day weekend but before one perfect for making war metaphors.) I actually made a number of reservations in the last few months and then cancelled them. When my husband was gone for 10 days, earlier in this month, I decided that anniversary or not, I needed to get away for my own sanity so I made reservations that could not be cancelled without a huge financial penalty.
On Friday, we made the drive to the rental house. We left at 3:00 pm and I expected given the fact that it was a holiday weekend that it would take at least 2 1/2 hours to get there to allow for an extra hour of traffic. Our first surprise was that my daughter, who finds car trips to be incredibly stressful, was actually pleasant on the drive. Our second surprise is that the trip only took two hours. When we walked into the house, my husband, seeing the gorgeous view out the back of the house, to which is attached with a wraparound deck, exclaimed, “This is the best place you have every gotten for us, hands down.”
Yesterday, we had a wonderful day. My daughter was in a good mood, the best I have seen for months. She SPENT TIME WITH US. She actually sat down at the dining table to eat lunch and invited my husband to join her. She played on the beach despite the availability of Internet! Sometimes, when I have a wonderful day, it can actually be a bit dysregulating, especially if it comes after a particularly stressful time, as this vacation has. Although it’s mostly good, this is the time when I’m most likely to get emotionally sloppy with my friends. “You are the BEST FRIEND IN THE UNIVERSE!!!” It’s not like I’m not sincere but you know, there’s a time and a place for everything and sometimes I act drunk on emotion. Good thing my people love me and are understanding.
Today may be a hard day. Today may be a wonderful today. Today may be both hard and wonderful. I may even get bored. I am hoping that today will be a celebration.
The view from the rental house at low tide.
The view of the house from the beach. The decks are amazing. I want to have a seafood party at this house!
Scene from historic La Conner, WA, taken with the watercolor setting on my camera. I decided that might look nicer on a gray morning.
My Eyes Are Up Here 
I’m like you in that I remember a lot of dates. “It’s not like I’m sitting with a calendar marking the days”… I like the way you put that. It boggles my mind how for the life of me I cannot remember many things, but most of this cancer crap I cannot seem to forget. Sounds like your nightmare was pretty intense. The brain does do weird things… I’m glad you were able to get away. You don’t mention whether or not your husband and daughter remember the date. Do you guys talk about it or no? Thinking of you on this date of remembering, forgetting, celebrating, or whatever it turn out to be for you. And the place looks great. Thanks for the post.
Thank YOU for reading and commenting. My husband and daughter do not remember the date. They have very very different senses of time, generally speaking, as well as styles of coping with my cancer. I would say more but this is probably a very good subject for a full blog post. The disconnect between myself and my family is actually tricky to navigate.
Take advantage of this beautiful place. Each year should be a celebration of life a happy, thankful time.
Mom, as Al Franken’s Stuart Smalley would say, “You’re shoulding all over yourself.”
We had a great time, Mom!
Wow, three years! Honestly, I still felt like I was in anxiety hell at three years. It wasn’t until six years that I started to ‘forget’ that certain dates were approaching — but then I’d remember them because of a scheduled screening appointment. *sigh* You’re doing really well, my friend. I was still under the fatigue bus in a huge way at three years. I don’t think I had the wherewithal then to plan a weekend away! Good for you! Nobody gets this weird timeline like we do. xoxo, Kathi
Thanks a lot, Kathi. The validation we give each other about the ups and downs of grief and healing are very precious to me.
Our dates fall in the same months, diagnosis and mastectomy. It’s hard to forget and at the same time, difficult to remember. I was talking to my Dad recently and likened it to a horror movie, nightmare stuff indeed. I’m glad you’re well Elizabeth and that you decided to take a break. Your rental place is beautiful and family time is always precious.
Tracy, I had forgotten this. How are you doing? I have lost track of time and I am not sure whether you would have returned to work or not after your last surgery.
I have returned to work Elizabeth, heavy going at first and difficult to make sense of what had happened while I was away. I am still weakened from the surgery but overall recovery is going to plan and I aim to be back to full strength by the Autumn, fingers crossed. I hope you’re doing well, I often think of you xoxox