Steeping Through Recovery

June 2015,  One month post-chemo, Rocky Mountain National Park, Colorado

As I approached the big milestone of being one year cancer-free this week, I started thinking about the word "steep" and how it seemed to me that all definitions and all uses of "steep" could be applied to my experience with cancer in different ways.

First, take a look at the adjective form of the word:

steep ¹  (stēp)

adj. steep·er, steep·est

1. Having a sharp inclination; precipitous.

2. At a rapid or precipitous rate

3.

a. Excessive; stiff

b. Ambitious; difficult.  (From thefreedictionary.com)

Steep, as in a tall mountain to climb.

Steep, as in a high price to pay.

Steep, as in a difficult path.  

I used to think that, in terms of this cancer "journey," the steepest incline was the cancer treatment itself.   Once treatment was completed, I thought I would find myself at the top of the slope, the arduous path behind me, and that I would then have an easier journey on more solid footing, making my way back to my starting place.  I thought my life would resume approximately where it left off before my diagnosis.  

I was right about it being a difficult climb, it's just that I had it backwards.  Breast cancer is one of the few diseases where you usually start out feeling pretty good, then after receiving months of harsh surgeries and treatments, you come out at the end feeling depleted.

So it occurred to me that the cancer journey, for me, started up at the top of the mountain.  My life was pretty "normal" before cancer.  I thought I was healthy.  I was in the prime of my life at age 46, the mother of three children between the ages of 10 and 16.  Then, the treatments began: surgery, chemo, radiation therapy, and hormone therapy.  I gradually spiraled down a steep descent.  I won't go into details, but physically, I feel much worse now than I did a year ago.  Also, I've gone through a major identity crisis over the past year.  Indeed, I've often asked myself, "Who the heck is this woman looking back at me in the mirror?"  You see, breast cancer brings about many physical and emotional changes.  Not all of them bad, but, like all change, they take getting used to.

And so now I find myself at the bottom of the mountain, not the top.   And the trouble is, there is no way I can take the same path back up.  In fact, I don't think I can get back up the same mountain at all.  But truth be told, I don't even want to.

I have to find a new mountain to climb.  A better one, with a nicer view.  

But what about the word "steep" in it's verb form?

steep ²  (stēp)

v. steeped, steep·ing, steeps

1. To soak in liquid in order to cleanse, soften, or extract a given property from.

2. To infuse or subject thoroughly to.

3. To make thoroughly wet; saturate.  (From thefreedictionary.com)

Steep, as in saturating my body with chemo and radiation to extract the cancer.

YES!  That's more like it!  The CANCER IS GONE!

And better yet, steeped, as in a complete cleansing of my spirit!

That is the triumphant form of steep.  I am cleansed and ready to begin again.  No looking back.  The time is now.

Onward and upward.  A new mountain to climb!  

I wrote this poem to commemorate my milestone.  Here's to new beginnings.  "Cheers!"


I pour myself a cup of tea,

Full of clock hands,

And calendar pages.

A year of my life,
Condensed down and filtered.

Until all I need to remember
Steeps in my mug.
And all I need to forget
Evaporates with the steam.

I drink it down, slowly.
Let the warmth soak in. 

Each sip, a prayer.
Each taste, a vow.
An ending and a beginning.

Looking back at where I started,
I see footprints melting in the snow.
Temporary reminders of a path I never chose to take.
No way to retrace my steps,
No need to go that way again.

I will drink down these memories,
Until I get my fill, and then set my mug aside.
I will study the map before me.
I will re-tie my boot straps,
Take a breath of fresh air,
And put one foot in front of the other, once again.