February 10th gained a new meaning for me 7 years ago. It was on this day that I was told that I had Melanoma, I had now become a cancer patient. I can remember the night like it was yesterday - I was driving down 21st south heading to a friends birthday dinner when the doctor called me. He asked if I was driving and if I was I needed to pull over. I did, into the SuperSonic car wash and we talked for about 10 minutes and he told me I had Melanoma and what that meant. I knew that wasn't good, but really didn't process exactly what that meant. I wasn't scared, more annoyed at the time that I would have to go to more appointments and switch work and who knows what else. I still went to my friends birthday dinner and it wasn't until the following morning spent in appointments at Huntsman that it all hit on how severe the situation really was.
And here we are today. 7 years, 3 operations and 42 missing lymph nodes, and who knows how many stitches - 15 (18+ really) inches of scar - and sooo many appointment and scans later. I would rather be celebrating 7 years cancer free, but we just aren't there just yet. I will continue fighting and pushing forward through the craziness life throws at me and we'll look back on this when I'm 40 years past my diagnosis date.
Here's to the craziness...
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