There have been complaints about the new color scheme, and to these concerned individuals I would like to say two things:
1. Thank you for your concern. We at Limbodacious are constantly working to improve the blog-reading experience for you.
2. Suck it.
The truth is, I changed the colors in response to a feeling of change within me. A little softer, a little sadder, a little more cautious. I have felt for a while now that I am on the verge of... something. It's a hard feeling to put your finger on, just a vague sense that something good, bad, or otherwise is about to happen.
It became a little clearer at my last appointment with my gyn/onc. As I checked out, the receptionist asked me, "Would you like a referral to a gynecologist?"
"For what?" I asked in disbelief.
"You know, your pap smears, routine things that you don't really need your gyn/onc to do."
I must not have concealed my shock very well, because she added, "It's not like we're not dumping you. Wouldn't you rather go to a regular gynecologist than your cancer doctor every time?"
A regular gynecologist. I knew what the words meant individually but couldn't really comprehend the concept. But she was right, I should try to transition into a non-cancer-patient lifestyle as much as I can, because you know, I'm not a cancer patient anymore.
And that's what it is.
I am at a point where I need to re-assimilate myself into a world where I feel misunderstood and awkward. And really, I don't want to. It's not that I enjoy going through treatment, believe me, but at least within the four walls of an oncologist's office I felt safe, I was doing something actively to help myself, and most importantly, people understood the gravity of what I was going through. Now as my scars heal and my hair grows out, my outside does not even reveal a hint of my recent struggles.
When I called the gynecologist they suggested, I mentioned that I had a history of agressive ovarian cancer. I mentioned this, of course, to give them a picture of what exactly they're dealing with when I come in and, of course, to get a sooner appointment. It's a strange saying these medical types have, "a history of..." like since it is not currently happening, it's all in the past.
I guess now the issue is finding out what I have "a present of", which seems like it would be obvious, but instead I find myself clinging to the past looking over a cliff.
And so now we begin a new color of Limbo for a new stage of Life.
