She was at her son’s soccer game.
She was planning her daughter’s wedding.
She had just accepted a promotion.
She was celebrating her retirement.
And then came the day. The day that created the line in the sand of her life. The day she heard the words: you have cancer.
Time stopped. The world swirled. The air was sucked out of the room. It was followed by months of hurry up and wait. And then the next big day arrives. Treatment is over, and the patient assumes her life will resume as it was before that dreadful day.
Only it doesn’t. There are worries and pains and fears. Or maybe she must learn to live with her cancer, and all the sympathetic looks that come with that mantle.
As cancer survivors, we get all this. Nothing seems to fit and no one understands. We are not who we were before. So who are we now? What was it all for? What will fill the hole now that the diagnosis and treatment are over? What are we supposed to do?
We survivors have been given extra time, whether it’s months or decades. And we have gained a wealth of experience. We could spend that extra time being angry and afraid. We could waste that wealth by trying to forget the experience.
Or we could create a 2nd Act for our lives. A rebirth, using our gifts of time and experience to give back to society for the greater good.
There is healing in helping. The worth of a 2nd Act isn’t defined by size. Car washes, 5k teams and bake sales are as valuable as foundations and hospital wings. In this case, size doesn’t matter. The doing does.
The stories of My 2nd Act, whether written or spoken, are worth hearing and worthy of repeating. Each one creates more education, more inspiration and a louder voice for survivorship!