When I was first diagnosed with cancer (like within the first 20 min after hearing the words) I remember being really worried I would turn into one of those cancer fun run enthusiasts (for reasons why see above). Considering what I was up against it probably should not have been on my list of worries but there it was. I was just really genuinely concerned, as though someone from Live-strong was lurking around the corner waiting to assign me a pink shirt with a number. They would then hold me at gun point as I would be forced to run 5K after 5K.
I didn't want to ever say "My Cancer" as though it was a pet of some kind. To be attached to it emotionally. It was embarrassing to me. I was too young and too healthy to have the big C. It was some sick joke and I didn't want to be a part of it.
In truth I now realize, what I was worried about was that something good might have the audacity to come out of being diagnosed with cancer. It was such an awful blow to be hit with. I felt like God had lost his mind. My Grandma Lois always said things work out for the best and I believed her. But this was different I knew she didn't mean cancer. I wanted to show God he was wrong to have allowed this to happen to me and the only way to do that was for nothing good to ever come from it.
I went to my monthly group meeting last night. I love going and being involved with my "survivors club." Thankfully they haven't asked to, but I would strap on pink tutu and go running with them any time. It's hard to explain it from the other side of it. I can't say I would ever recommend to anyone that they get Hopkins lymphoma "because it's totally the best cancer ever!" But even I have to admit that it hasn't been all bad.
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