Two landmark occasions today: I went to see my surgeon for my first check up, and I went to work for the first time since I found out that I had cancer. Surgeon first, work second. Dr. Johnson said that my scars were healing nicely, and I should feel comfortable resuming low-impact physical activity. This is good news! Maybe I can’t begin jogging yet, but more walking, maybe some bike riding, swimming, who knows? I have lots of options, which is great.
The first day back at work was fairly uneventful. Lots of “Wow, you look great!” and “I’m so glad you’re back.” I wonder if they thought I would be bald already, or that I would look like I was on death’s door. I wish, at times like these, that people would be totally honest. I wish someone would say, “Wow, Logan, I expected you to come back looking like a living corpse, not very similar (albeit a few pounds lighter) to how you looked when you left.” That’s okay. I wouldn’t do that, either.
I read a blog today of a woman who had breast cancer. It was titled “A Year with Cancer” or something like that, and it was from Fit magazine online, or something like that. I was mildly frustrated by the blog, simply because this woman had stage I cancer and it seemed much worse than I imagine stage I cancer actually being. She had chemo and went bald, she went through serious psychological help to deal with her fear of death, and it goes on and on. Am I really just being way too optimistic? Should I be afraid for my life, or are other people just more melodramatic than me? I guess that’s why no one reads this blog – I’m not entertaining enough because I’m actually trying to deal with my cancer in a logical, calm, proactive way. Well, sorry, readers, I will never be that pathetic.