Party hearty?

It was recently suggested to me that when I finish my chemotherapy in April I should have a big party to celebrate. My gut reaction was one of discomfort; I was immediately hesitant. Why? Who wouldn't want to throw a big party? Why wouldn't I want to finally pop the double magnum of Dom that's been sitting in our kitchen and say good bye and good riddance to the leukemia that's taken over for the past two years?!

I'm hesitant because I'm uncomfortable drawing that kind of attention to myself. Key words being "that kind".

Cancer is defined as an uncontrollable growth of cells. But it didn't just grow uncontrollably amongst my cells. It became this uncontrollable force in my entire life. My leukemia was the catalyst for this treatment that took over my LIFE - for TWO YEARS. And to a degree, it's not just two years; while I may not be getting chemotherapy, I know my check ups, the tests, the appointments, are going to continue for a number of years. Just like a police record, my medical record will haunt me for the rest of my life.

This cancer has become the predominant force behind everything that I think, do, or say. Leukemia didn't just take my health, it took my freedom, it took my innocence, it took my hair.

I'm self-conscious; so much more than I used to be. Yes, a lot of it is physical. But I think it also stems from the same root that makes me hesitant about throwing a party. I've said it before and I'll say it again: I'm sick of being sick. I'm sick of my leukemia getting all the attention. Because throwing a party is not just drawing attention to myself, it's drawing attention to my cancer. While the leukemia certainly is a part of me, it is only a part of the whole - I am my own person, not my cancer. When I finish my treatment I will be able to regain the pieces I have lost, whether it's my hair, my chin, my self-confidence, or my Wednesdays. This disease has stolen enough from me; it's been in control for too long. In April I will be DONE - done with chemo, done with leukemia - done, finished, gone.

So what is this? Late-onset denial? I don't think I'm denying anything if I'm simply taking back what used to be mine. I think cancer inadvertently becomes a secret because it changes people's perceptions so much. I don't tell people not because I don't want to tell them, but because I know it will change how they see me. I'm not just Stephanie anymore, I'm Stephanie with leukemia, and that's a much more loaded title. I just want to be Stephanie again, but not because I want to erase the fact that I have leukemia. Just because it's not in the headline doesn't mean it isn't in the article.

Who knows... there's definitely something to be said for celebrating and flipping leukemia the bird. And maybe when April finally rolls around I'll feel differently. For now though, for the most part, my life is my leukemia. It's taken two years of my control, two years of my focus, two years of my attention, two years of my time. Frankly, I think it's had enough.