Under my skin, part 3

Right now I’m quite busy reorganising my life and blogging less, but that’s for another post. Before I come to this, I want to finish this mini-series.

There’s one point I often think about. Why I am still alive when so many wonderful people are dying or have already died of cancer? Why the young mother of two, or the autor who had so much left to say, and not me? We cancer survivors have to bury those who don’t make it. That’s often hard for me, especially in times when depression strikes.

This is closely linked to the question: What is the meaning of my life? I know cancer can ask this question very loud and unmistakably. Sometimes cancer forces life to change, sometimes it makes people realize they live the life they never wanted. And sometimes it makes people realize their life is wonderful as it is. All of this has its merits. For me, it was something in between, I changed some little things, but nothing major.

Cancer is often painted as black or white, life or death. But it’s not so simple, sometimes cancer adds a lot of colours to life.

I want to give cancer the room in my life it deserves, but nothing more. Keeping this balance is sometimes easy and sometimes hard. What I want to say is: Life doesn’t stop with a cancer diagnosis. I am thankful for all the great people who helped me learn this lesson.