Bedtime.

In just a few months I will be counted among those women who have survived five years following an initial diagnosis of breast cancer. The five year survival stastistic is commonly quoted. It includes plenty o' women like me, who will die from this disease, but not within five years.

I'm already feeling stiff necked and snipey about Breast Cancer Awareness Month. October -- once one of my favorite months -- is just around the corner. Oh, well.

I was 36 when diagnosed with cancer. It sounds so young to me now.

On the drive to work this morning I heard a song with lyrics that amazed me. It's a sweet accoustic-sounding song by Death Cab for Cutie, and the lyrics begin:


Love of mine some day you will die
But I'll be close behind
I'll follow you into the dark

It goes on in the same theme: he will follow her in death. It's supposed to be heartfelt and romantic, but to me it just sounded like a bad or misguided lie. The truth is so much harder than that -- that some people die, and others live. And they learn to be happy again.

I sound grouchier than I feel, I think. I'm on the right side of the five year numbers, and over a year with a stage 4 diagnosis. Here's the thing. I've been thinking of my life in years instead of decades (my 40's, 50's 60's). And some time... perhaps soon, because who really knows... I'll start thinking of my life in months instead of years. And then it's weeks instead of months, and days instead of weeks... then hours instead of days, and minutes instead of hours, and then there will just be moments. And at no time will any of it seem like enough.

CT scan in the morning, then it's off to work.