Still vibrant old clunkers

Most days I'm always thinking of my cancer.  Why am I so tired?  Must be the cancer.  Why was I so short with that person?  Must be the cancer.  Why do I have diabetes?  Cancer drugs.  Why must I map out the location of all the restrooms in the public places I frequent?  Pelvic radiation damage while treating cancer.  Why can't I remember how to use the key pad to open the garage door?  Chemo brain.

But then, there are days like the last few I've had when cancer has taken a back seat.  I've been away on a girlfriend trip with Anne, an old college friend of 30+ years.  Unfortunately, she's had her own up close and personal experience with cancer too.  Perhaps this is why it's been such a relief to be with her.  Yes, we've talked about our cancers, but it's been in a way that's allowed us to find comfort in the common experience.

Our focus has not been on the anger and guilt and frustration, but rather on the triumph, the joy of still being here with our friends and family, and the realization that our bodies might not be what they used to be, but in each of our own ways, these old clunkers of ours are still vibrant.  Heck, Anne runs and plays tennis.

And, just this morning, I woke up at 6:00 and went for a swim in the solitary dark, quiet morning at the pool belonging to our vacation condo.  I stroked far less than the mile I used to be able to swim, but my mere 6 laps felt glorious!