"Do not dwell in the past, do not dream of the future, concentrate the mind on the present moment."
Here's my morning breakfast. I am nothing if not a creature of habit. I'm a big tea drinker and much prefer tea to coffee especially in the morning. So much more gentle and nurturing for something you do first thing each morning, than the harsh and bitter taste of coffee. Then, of course, there's my ever present oatmeal. Yes, I confess, it's the packaged kind that you make with boiling water that takes about 30 seconds to make and probably has no nutritional value whatsoever, but I'm addicted to it and have had it every morning for so many years now, that I can't even remember how long it's been.
Then there's my morning pills. I've taken to calling them my little army. They're the vitamins and Tamoxifen that are supposed to help me fight a recurrence of breast cancer. I find it very humorous to think that something as ominous and life threatening as a recurrence of breast cancer can be beaten down and defeated by such an innocuous looking little group of pills as those on the counter above. But that's what the doctors tell me.
My oncologist told me to take Tamoxifen every day for 5 years because it will cut my recurrence rate in half. And then my family practitioner told me to take 2,000 mg of Vitamin D each day as it helps prevent breast cancer (yikes that seems like an inordinate amount of Vitamin D) and I didn't have the heart to point out to her that I'd already had breast cancer, so why bother, 'cause she seemed quite adamant about it, even after hearing all about my year of BC. And then, I take a multi-vitamin and a vitamin C and a B complex and my Remifemin (to combat the hot flashes that the Tamoxifen causes) and by then, it's become this little arsenal you see above. And as silly as it seems, it makes me feel like I'm doing something to avoid a recurrence. Because, really, what else can I do? Except eat well and sleep a lot and try to stay happy and calm and healthy (which everyone probably tries to do anyway, bc or not, right?).
There's something startling about the notion of a recurrence. I don't really think about it very often anymore but over the holidays someone that I hadn't seen in a long time, asked me if I was in remission. I didn't know what to say. I hadn't really thought about what to call my current state and I frankly prefer not to really try and figure it out. I just am. And, I'm doing just fine, thank you very much. So I mumbled something along the lines of "Er, hmmm, um, not really sure what they call it, but I'm pretty sure everything is going to be fine, er, hem, ah," and then quickly got out of there so I didn't have to explain anything further. And then I confess, I didn't sleep very well that night as I lay thinking about what she had asked. I much prefer to just avoid the whole notion of what's next and live in the moment these days. And it's working for me, so that's how I'm gonna' roll.