Welcome to Your New Normal

Jeff's Take

 

I can see clearly now, the rain is gone,
I can see all obstacles in my way
Gone are the dark clouds that had me blind
It’s gonna be a bright (bright), bright (bright)
Sun-Shiny day.

Johnny Nash

 

 
    If only it were that easy Mr. Nash. 

   Don't get me wrong, like I stated in my previous blog post, I am happier than I have been in a long time.  As any survivor can attest, you are not the same person coming out of treatment as you were going in.  Physiological changes from treatment aside, mentally, emotionally, and for many spiritually, you are changed forever.  You have a new perspective on life, new fears as well.  Many call this "finding your new normal".

   In a strange way, it's more like forgetting your old normal.  I try not dwell on it because I can never have it back.  Parts? Sure.  All of it?  Not even close.  Looking back, I'm not sure I want all of it anyway.  It is very liberating to now just live life to it's fullest, every day.

   I struggled with the concept at first.  You see, I was a "What's everyone else doing?" kinda guy.  I seemingly always needed someone else to suggest an activity.  I am plenty adventurous and don't mind some thrill seeking.  Now, I take the initiative.  If something jumps up unexpectedly and changes those plans, oh well, run with it.

   So what's on the list?  For one, I have reached out to some fellow Lymphoma friends.  We are tentatively planning a celebratory trip to Las Vegas for spring of 2014.  I love Las Vegas.  Sure, the city won't be new to me, but I find new experiences there each and every time I visit.  This time- jumping off the side of the Stratosphere.  Not because I have a death wish, but because they have a free-fall jump you can do.  Let's not forget to mention the outstanding people watching we are gonna do!

   I will continue to reach out to my fellow warriors.  I cannot express the joy I get meeting these amazing people and offering support to get them to the same place I am- a survivor, check that, I'm a surthriver. 

   My sister, Becki and I have been attending a regular evening at a local restaurant trying to help them promote their "bar games" night.  Yes, we win prizes, but the we got the real prize the other night.  The DJ that hosts runs a charity golf outing each year so he has some tax deductions at the end of the year.  This year he wants it to benefit our walk team for our local Lymphomathon.  All I gotta do is be there and get some people to play.   Win-win.

   I am almost 11 months in remission.  Like many of you, I have that voice in the back of my head reminding me that one day my cancer may come back, but with each passing healthy day, that voice gets just a wee bit less intrusive.  And that is a new normal I can get used to, one with a bright sun-shiny day.