People have asked me why I paint about cancer, why I talk about it, why I eat differently and make different life choices than in the past. It's because the battle continues. I fight with how my body looks and functions now due to treatments; I fight with my mind; I fight with my emotions; I fight with my memories; and I fight with the ever-present awareness that cancer could come back. Most days I can stare it all down. "Nice Fangs," I monotone to the tigers in my head.
I find it ironic that on Independence Day I am fighting with my lack of independence from the aftermath of cancer. I went to the optometrist yesterday to get new contacts, and at the end of the exam he informed me that I have developed a cataract on each eye: "Likely from the chemotherapy." Well. In the grand scheme of things, this probably isn't a big deal. Yet I am very aware that I just got nipped. Again. Nice Fangs.