This is Andy, posting what I think will be the last post on Sue’s blog. She did a far better job sharing her journey than I could have, and she probably would have done a better at this too.
The final celebration of Sue’s life will be at the Cooperage March 8th (Sunday) from 1pm to 5pm. Anyone who sees this, and wants to share in the joy of having had Sue in their life, is welcome to attend.
I was going to write more, but I don’t think I’m up for it yet. So, instead I am going to copy and past a post from Sue, from about a year ago, on her 5 year cancerversery. I think it does a better job capturing the joy, courage, and excitement to be alive she had in this last year better than anything I could have said.
The pain from losing her is real, still fresh and raw and bubbling, looking for insidious ways to creep into my thoughts and heart. But the joy and love and light from remembering her is also strong. Neither should be set aside too soon, but I plan to make sure the last, lingering thoughts of Suzanne Knight, my wife, love, and partner in all things are on her smile, her laugh, and the joy she brought to us all.
Today marks the five year anniversary of the day I heard the words nobody wants to hear. “You have cancer”. The five year “cancerversary” is a big milestone for most cancer survivors because, statistically, after five years the chances of recurrence drop significantly. For me, that part no longer applies since my cancer has already metastasized. Despite that, I’m still going to celebrate my five year survivorship. I’m still surviving. Looking back, these five years have certainly had rough spots. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that.
These five years have also been packed with love, adventure and great experiences. Looking back, these have been some of the best years of my life. I married the love of my life. We bought a house together and built a home (We’re days away from finishing our kick-ass bathroom renovation!). We’ve become a tight family of four. I joined Team Phoenix and gained an entire family of amazing sisters. I completed two triathlons, and encouraged my kids to try it. We took an epic two month long trip (our “Familymoon”) in a vintage RV named Cliff. We camped and explored several National Parks, include some amazing places in the Canadian Rockies. We rode horses to a tea house high over Lake Louis. We’ve come face to face with a grizzly bear and her baby. We’ve ridden motorcycles through these breath-taking National Parks. We’ve slept under a meteor showers in the Badlands. We’ve hiked glaciers, stood on the edge of the Grand Canyon, sat in natural hot springs, jumped off a cliff into an icy Blue Hole, and hike to remote Cliff dwellings. I’ve been blessed. These five years with family and friends have brought me so much joy.
Our plans for new adventures are always bubbling. We have a couple more trips planned for 2019 already and my bucket list is over-flowing with adventures I want to share with my family. I also have a few applications in for retreats that have been established for cancer patients. One includes the family and one is all about pampering little ole’ me.
I can certainly say that cancer has changed my life in many ways. It has become cliche, but the diagnosis has made me more aware of the things that are important. It has helped me shed the things that were holding me down. It has taught me to listen to my body and take care of my health. It has given me a sense of urgency to live fully and pack in the things I want to do and share with my family. It has taught me to say “yes” to the challenges, get-togethers, and activities, in case I don’t get another chance. (Well-except for the “Frosty 5K” race that my friends did in spite of negative 20 degree temperatures- That challenge was not for me…) It has also made me aware of my mortality (a condition all of us share). Not one of us knows how long we have to live, and nobody has an expiration date stamped on them. I now take each day as it comes and do what I can. Some are better than others, but I’m sure that’s not unique to me.
Life has become a tough balancing act, facing an incurable illness. The pains and fatigue and sickness are real. The fear of what the future holds is real. My goal is to not let that fear paralyze me. Fear won’t stop me from planning my future. Fear won’t stop me from pushing my limits. Fear won’t stop me from taking each day for what it is, good and bad. My goal is to stay strong (thank you Team Phoenix for making it a priority to be Strong, Proud, Alive and Re-Defined!!). My goal is to raise my daughters and give them the opportunities to learn and grow and explore the world. My goal is to thrive despite a cancer diagnosis. I’ll always have hope that the good days outweigh the rough days. I’ll always have hope for a cure. I’m taking it one step at a time. Today-I’m celebrating five years thriving with cancer. I hope there will be cake! (Honey-will there be cake?)