Driving to one of many many (so many!) swims this summer, a song came on my Spotify that stopped me mid-thought. Isn’t it great when that happens? You hear a certain lyric out of the blue and it’s like getting hit between the eyes.
The song was People Get Old by Lori McKenna. Not the most clever title, invoking an initial “no duh!” response from me when I first heard it. But then this verse:
Time is a thief / Pain is a gift / The past is the past / It is what it is.
The last line is cliche, so we can skip that. But time is a thief? Absolutely. Pain is a gift? Truth. Eight words that sum up my summer.
I realize I’ve been remiss on the blog posts. Thanks to the folks that asked and prodded me to get back at it. I love you all.
But I make no apologies for the last three months. I swam my ass off, farther and stronger and better than ever before. Just like I promised myself I would while recovering from my mastectomy in April.
It feels good to keep a promise to yourself.
And when I had to choose to write or swim? You know what I did.
I’m out of the water again, six weeks this time, following my DIEP flap breast rebuild surgery. (Wow did that suck. But I’m back to wading!) Plastic surgery is crazy magic. Who knew all that Brie and beer built up on my gut over the years would come in handy?
So relieved this final step on my stupid cancer “journey” (eye roll) is complete. I feel like a cat out of the bath.
Pain is a gift.
This afternoon I’m turning the tables, albeit briefly, and stealing from time instead of the other way around. The sun’s out, the new puppy is asleep, and I’m wearing real pants as I write this. (Trust me, after that surgery, it’s a big deal.)
Feeling so much gratitude for it all.
–TJ Wiley Forsyth