"You're the luckiest unlucky person on the planet," she said.
Last Friday, I took the entire day off for yearly check-ups. Ya know, the dentist, eye doctor, etc. After being pumped with poison for six months straight, I wanted to get a quick check under the hood to make sure all my gears were turning and in good condition, and, frankly, there were some areas of my health I neglected while undergoing treatment—mostly because I was limited to how I maintained my body (i.e., I couldn't floss) (disgusting, right?) and because, well, I was overwhelmed.
I don't know what I expected from these visits, but I certainly wasn't expecting to hear that everything was in pristine shape. Obviously I didn't think I was blind, but I was shocked that my glasses and contacts prescription didn't budge one bit. The chemo made me very sensitive to light. And I was really shocked whenever the dentist said I have, "...beautiful teeth," and "If everyone's teeth looked like yours, I'd be out of business." Again, I couldn't floss for six months.
I was really nervous for the last appointment of the day. It was more of a mechanical appointment—like taking your car to the shop to run diagnostics. But similar to the other appointments... everything seemed okay. So, I pressed and asked hard questions and really tried out this new "patient rights" attitude I've developed.
"Sadie, you don't have cancer to worry about anymore, so you're trying to find something else to be anxious about," my doctor said. "Chill out. Everything is going to be okay."
I choked up. She was right. And, by the way, she's the only medical professional I've visited with that has leveled with me about my circumstance. We even joked about it.
"You're the luckiest unlucky person on the planet," she said. "Because we know how to treat Hodgkin's now, and you're still alive."
A weight fell off my shoulders after that appointment.
The next day, I went to the gym for the first time in ten months. I was nervous to see what my body could handle, and I was bracing for disappointment. What I haven't told y'all is that before my diagnosis, I made a concentrated effort to invest in my mental and physical health. One tactic I used was going to the gym multiple days a week and tracking my progress. My last recorded workout was October 24, 2022, so I decided I would replicate it. And y'all... I not only finished that workout, I sailed through it. Though pleasantly shocked, this taught me an important lesson: My body was never and will never be the villain of my story. The villain was cancer, and now that it's gone, I don't have to limit myself. No, I shouldn't limit myself.
I have a long way to go before I fully regain freedom and restore trust in myself and my life, but I won't be re-entering the world as an underdog. And I won't underestimate God's healing and strength ever again.
"My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever." - Psalm 73:26
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