I bet you thought I’d forgotten about you. Rest easy, my friends. I’m back!

There’s been a bit of writer’s block going on in this noggin. I’m still writing at work, sharing stories about our patients and their care (shameless plug for my work at LMH Health), but I’ve had a hard time continuing to tell you about mine.

By all accounts, 2023 was an eventful year.

• I started out the year with hair, then I lost it and now it’s back.
• I started the year with boobs, then I lost those. No, those didn’t grow back – well, kind of but not really. But I do have new boobs!
• I started out with cancer and guess what? It is definitely NOT BACK.

I made it to 2024 and on January 12, almost 14 months after being diagnosed with cancer, I finished my last treatment and I rang that bell. It was such an overwhelming feeling knowing that I was done. No more Friday afternoon trips to have blood drawn and hang out with my oncology nurses, even though I pop up in the office to say hi and ask all kinds of other questions. No more Zoom meetings or calls with reporters from the comfort of my comfy brown recliner while having those life-saving drugs poured into my body. I was done.

It sounds weird to say that even though I was elated to have that moment, to declare so loudly that my treatment was done, I felt a sense of sadness. I wasn’t sad because it was over (trust me). I felt a pang of guilt because I was able to get that happy ending when so many others didn’t.

My friend Andy was heavy on my mind. He was in a room on the second floor of the hospital, having an “annoying and inconvenient battle” with colon cancer. I was so happy to be done with my treatment and so blazingly angry that he was upstairs fighting for more time. I wanted to be able to see him ringing the bell, slapping that blue button that opens the doors and busting out of the cancer center with that sly grin plastered all over his face. I wanted my friend – the one who said that we should get Cancer Club jackets made – to have that same chance, that same experience.

It wasn’t meant to happen. Less than a week later, Andy was gone.

After that, I felt really guilty that I was still here and he wasn’t. I know I didn’t have anything to feel guilty about, but that’s the thing with grief. It doesn’t always make sense, but sometimes it gives you purpose.

I’m still grieving for Andy and frankly, he’s always going to be there in the back of my mind. But as another wise Andy said, “I guess it comes down to a simple choice really. Get busy living or get busy dying.”

Yes, I just quoted The Shawshank Redemption. And yes, I’m sure Andy – like real-life Andy – is out there somewhere rolling his eyes at me for it. But let’s be real, it’s exactly what I’m going to do.

I’m going to spend the money and take a trip with the hubs overseas. I’m going to take the time to see a show that wouldn’t have been on my radar before. I’m going to force myself out of my comfort zone. It’s time to get busy living.

Miss you, Andy.