I choose not to share photo’s with the world regarding myself or anything to do with being sick.  It was a choice that was purposefully made.  In a world where “googling” someone is common practice, I don’t want people to only know me as someone with cancer.  Or as a cancer survivor.  Plus I am old and just recently found out how to use Instagram.  Yup, it’s okay, you can judge me for not being hip to what the young kids are up to these days.  I understand why people do, it’s to connect to other when in their own world they can no longer relate to their friends.  I go through the same thing.  I connected to Alan through his articles regard his own cancer story, he wrote a story about social media Cancer in Social Media .  It’s an interesting read.  But in all honesty I relate better to those that are in their 50’s-60’s, who have been through some sort of cancer or have seen close friends and family have it.  Strangely I am content with that.

Also, I have come to the realization that, although some people are very uncomfortable talking about cancer, it’s mostly me that is uncomfortable.  I remember when I first found out, I had my husband tell my dad because I couldn’t.  Because in my mind, even though I did nothing wrong, I had failed.  I couldn’t for the first month even say the word “cancer”  unless I was being sarcastic or joking about it.  I wasn’t and am still not comfortable with my cancer.  Maybe I never will be.  My “timeout” from the world came to an end when I went back to work.  Still going through chemo, my own co-workers didn’t know I was still taking.  The assumption was I was back and done.  It’s because I don’t look “sick”.  I don’t act sick.  I have only had to go home early once because I wasn’t feeling well.  Mostly I power through it.  It’s still painful physically.  I can’t remember the last time I actually felt my toes.  I think they are cold most of the time but couldn’t really say.  The pinky finger on my stroke hand still refuses to fully co-operate.  Fucker.  But I don’t talk about, especially at work, unless someone else brings it up.

Anyways.  I do have pics to document what happened.  I hate looking at them.  They remind me of a time I would rather forget.  A time that in time will be a distant memory.  Ohh “remember that one time when you got cancer….”