Changing Focus

And closing this chapter of my life

The day after my breast cancer diagnosis, I started writing a public diary here on substack. I’d left facebook for a time, but I needed to be heard—if only by a few strangers. It was an unexpectedly lonely time.

It has been nearly three years since I was in the clutches of the red devil: bald, weepy, and frightened. But last week island hopping off La Rochelle with a friend, I unselfconsciously wore my bathing suit sans prosthetic. I closed my eyes with my face turned toward the sun and told myself enough is enough. Stop waiting for the other shoe to drop. Life is good. Oh, my god, how good.

This body is still strong.

I’ve learned that I can’t reach for what I want in my life while holding onto fear, literally, in my chest. I have let go of a lot of the concerns of youth, and I am surprised that I don’t mourn them. The transition hasn’t been easy, but this is such an easy place to be now.

No one knows what the future will bring, but at the moment I have no evidence of cancer and no reason not to take that BC identity off my bio.

Last week I ate incredible food. Drank incredible wine. I walked along the estuaries and watched the pigeons poking in the seagrass, and the jumping sand bugs moving along the edge of my beach towel. The Good Life is a lot of things. E. and I have been talking for years about how we miss hiking. Neither of us is up for a week with a 40 kilo pack on the plateau right now, but the trails have been calling us both.

This winter we’ll be taking off in a caravan as often as our jobs allow. I’m sliding into my post-teaching life like interlacing fingers. I know there are shocks I can’t avoid in the future, but I can prepare when the inevitable is there ahead waving frantically like a weird old aunt in a straw hat.

Come on. It’s this way. Bring the bug spray.

I’ve found my bearings. Join me (and my husband) at Muddy Switchbacks, Whiskey Neat.

Sincere gratitude to you all.

Ren