Strolling confidently toward the Infusion Room, shoulders back, head held high...tightly gripping Rick's hand, neither of us talking. Checking in with as unenthusiastic employee in green scrubs, yes, Sandy Howard.
I glance down; it's really there, my name is in the appointment book. I realized I was still hanging on to a shred of hope that it really wasn't me that needed treatment, but no, there I am in The Book. Sandy Howard.
That's me. I have...deep sigh, cancer. I really do. Mr. Enthusiasm points to a chair...be with you in a minute...
I was scared, anxious, peaceful, trusting; each emotion surfacing and then being pulled down by the  
   undercurrent. The rip tide was strong. When peace surfaced
   I turned my face upward and whispered thanks...

   Cancer is incredibly scary and chemotherapy is brutal.
    But when faced with the challenge, we suck it up, focus,
    and do whatever is necessary to survive. But in the midst
    of that suffering, I was absolutely amazed to discover so
    many blessings...I also discovered that when treatment ends
    the challenge is not over. I thought when my chemotherapy,
    radiation, and surgury were finally completed; I would
    experience total joy, sheer ectasy, and absolute relief.
    I was dead wrong.    I Cried,     I moped
    I was depressed...    I was just plain terrified.
    I felt like I'd been dropped off a cliff and I was in a free fall
    of fear. What if the poisonous assault had missed a
    cancerous cell? Is it growing somewhere else right now?
          Where is it going to come back? Will I ever be free from anxiety and fear? Free from insomnia?
        Will I ever feel 'normal' again?