When I started this blog back in May 2009, it was part of an elaborate strategy I was designing, trying to “reassemble” the pieces of my life after completing chemo treatment for non-Hodgkins lymphoma.
Post-chemo . . . is a very weird place to be. Everyone thinks the end of chemo marks the end of a cancer journey. There are often balloons and celebrations, and then . . . everyone moves on. And, generally, everyone thinks you – the cancer survivor – should, too. And, sure. I won’t argue that the end of chemo IS an important milestone. But it’s just the end of treatment; not the end of a journey. Because that journey? Oh, it continues.
For me, finishing chemo was like suddenly being . . . untethered. During treatment, I’d been part of a system that was actively working to save my life, every day. My weeks were filled with treatments and blood work and scans and doctor appointments. Medical people were monitoring my every cell. Until, suddenly, they weren’t anymore. Too soon, it seemed, it was just me . . . completely on my own until my next check-up appointment. I felt very much alone, and I constantly wondered what would happen next? Did the chemo work well enough? Would the cancer come back?
I felt like I was living at . . . The Edge.
And I didn’t like it much.
Luckily, I found a book – Picking Up the Pieces: Moving Forward After Surviving Cancer by Sherri Magee and Kathy Scalzo – that was extremely helpful as I navigated my new life out there on The Edge. The book allowed me to find my footing again, and it provided tangible advice so I could move forward. I developed a plan for whatever might happen next; I came to think of it as my way of . . . stepping away from . . . The Edge.
And, as you can guess, that’s where the name of this blog came from. Part of my moving-forward plan included telling my story and sharing my experiences by blogging . . . here . . . at Stepping Away From the Edge.
But time unfolds, and the years (over 13 of them now, actually) keep rolling along. For quite a while, I’ve felt that I’ve probably . . . stepped away from The Edge enough at this point. I mean, I remain aware that The Edge is still there. (Spoiler alert: It’s always there. For all of us.) But I don’t feel like I’m doing so much . . . stepping away from it . . .these days.
In fact, these days I feel more comfortable . . . living . . . at The Edge.
So I decided it was time to move on again; to re-think how I’m living my life now, 13 (plus) years post-chemo. As part of my “revised strategy,” I thought about wrapping up this blog and just being “done” with it. Ultimately, though, I decided to continue blogging — just . . . differently. (A shift, I guess you could call it.) I created a new blog home, and I decided to give it a new name.
I guess you could say that while I am making a few changes (most of them cosmetic or “expansions”), it’s just my blogging intention that has shifted.
I don’t really need to step away from The Edge anymore.
I’m just dancing there!
I hope you’ll join me for this next segment of my journey . . .
This blog - Stepping Away From the Edge - will remain right here, right where it is. Just like always. You'll still be able to visit here, and you'll be able to read all the old posts here . . . if you want to. I decided I didn’t want to transfer all of my . . . history . . . to my new space when I moved. I really like the notion of starting fresh. But I’m keeping it all here, in storage. (Just in case. Y’know?)