(Re)Introducing Myself to Myself

It's been a little over two months since my diagnosis. It'll be a little over two months until my next surgery. And me and my body have gotten through it and will get through it together. But this entire period has been an interesting one for me and the ol' body -- a time of realization and re-introduction.

First, realization.

When I heard the words "Stage IV colon cancer," I realized that I didn't know my body as well as I thought I did. Understatement of the century, right? But really -- what the heck was my body doing behind my back? Never once did I feel like I was even a little bit sick, let alone strapped with an illness of this magnitude, until it smacked me in the face (or the gut, which would be more appropriate) with an intestinal blockage. I realized that, from that moment on, I needed to pay attention to my body and to stop pushing myself just because my mind said so and my body complied.  

Then, re-introduction.

A lot of things about my body are the same -- my extremely high pain tolerance, my food cravings, the soreness in my muscles after a hard workout, the way it feels to shoot a basketball. I love those parts of my old/current self, and I almost feel a kinship with those things. Good old me -- dependable, strong, and athletic. It's as if the real fabric of who I am physically is still right there, regardless of the first surgery or the chemo or the idiotic cancer inhabiting my body. It's still me.

A few things, though, are different. Obviously, the scar on my abdomen has changed the physical appearance of my mid-section. I have a circular area of skin -- underneath it, my port -- slightly protruding just below my collarbone. Now that my GI tract is working like a charm, I can almost feel my body digesting food. And I'm way hungrier. Although these things are new, I've embraced them as the current me -- the part that is battle-tested and battling, ensuring that I'll be even stronger going forward. 

And still, more things will change. 

The most palpable will be the loss of my ovaries during my "pick it out, pour it in" surgery. This has and will change my plans regarding future children. Although I've got some fertility options and may even be able to have my own biological child one day, the future me will never be pregnant (between you and me, this fact isn't exactly that upsetting to me). In addition, I'm pretty sure my incision scar is going to be even larger after this second surgery, which will continue to alter my physical appearance. I'll also lose snippets of organs and bowels during surgery, which will undoubtedly take a period of adjustment.

But most importantly, the future me will be devoid of cancer. And I can't wait to meet her.