Something I wrote almost ten years ago. Sometimes I need to be reminded…
Several years ago, emotionally adrift after being forced to relocate to Phoenix and only months thereafter receiving a cancer diagnosis, I was beginning to feel that—if not literally (because even then I wasn't going to cede my body over to a clump of cells less than half the size of a pencil eraser), then at least symbolically—my life was coming to an end. Everything had a "been there, done that" quality to it, and while I still had my long term support groups in both San Francisco and Tucson, I'd yet to make any new friends in Phoenix. I was beginning to wonder if was even worth the effort to try because at the time my long term prognosis—while good—was still not guaranteed. And furthermore, exactly how I was going to pull off meeting anyone with a plastic tube in my throat and a badly mangled self-image shadowing me everywhere I went was totally beyond my comprehension.
Fortunately, time does heal all wounds, and after a year or so I'd finally made peace with the plastic tube and everything it represented. My self-image was still pretty much in the toilet, but at least my hand wasn't resting on the flusher any longer.
After receiving another year or so of positive reports from my doctor, I started realizing that yes, maybe my life really was going to continue, and that—coupled with a permanent job offer—started me thinking that maybe I could return to the land of the living and start making plans again.
As I began to end that self-imposed exile, it became abundantly clear that in many ways, my old life had ended in 2003. I look back on the Mark who existed prior to those events, and I scarcely recognize him. I know it's me, but it's like peering back through a past life regression—and to be honest, a whole lot of it wasn't pretty. But still I am thankful for the Mark who came through that crucible and has grown from it.
Now that I was actually able to think about the future—about having a real, viable future—I started wondering what I still had to accomplish; what I still wanted to accomplish. And I also started wondering who were the still nameless, faceless souls that would unexpectedly come into my life and accompany me on this strange journey.
Out of nowhere, Cindy—one of those souls—entered stage right about a year ago, and until tonight over shared Mexican food, I'd all but forgotten what an absolute joy it was to cross paths with someone and suddenly realize you're not meeting a stranger for the first time but actually reconnecting with a long lost friend.