Day 1461 - Synesthesia

Remember when I wrote my epic one-year-later post back in 2012? Well, it's 2015, and today is already my 4th cancerversary. FOUR years. I remember that day like it was yesterday...it's hard to believe it's been that long. My life is completely different. I've changed as a person, people have come and gone from my life...too much to even keep track of. That's kind of what I like about this blog; it's one of the only constant things in my life since my diagnosis, and it's a nice way to document what's going on and be able to look back on what things were like however many years ago.

Since my life is relatively normal now (emphasis on the word "relatively"), I usually need to experience something pretty significant in order for me to blog about it, and while this might not seem like a big deal, I have a lot of feelings about this (I wouldn't be me if I didn't).

A few nights ago, we welcomed a bunch of new girls into Vocal Point, and we were going around the circle introducing ourselves. One of the things we had to say was "something interesting about ourselves that people might not necessarily know." When it got to me, I said that I have synesthesia. (Synesthesia is essentially a blending of senses. In my case, I see different colors when I hear particular musical notes.) A few seconds later, my friend said, "Allison is also a cancer survivor," and I laughed and said, "Oh wow. Yeah. I am. I can't believe I didn't say that."

I CAN'T BELIEVE I DIDN'T SAY THAT. For the longest time, I was very much defined by my status as a survivor. And I'm not complaining, it's just a fact. The internet literally knew me as "the girl with cancer who sings Adele." I was "the Vocal Point girl they had the benefit for." When I got back to school, I continued to be "that girl who had cancer," especially since everyone was asking me why I had cut my hair so short and why I was a 21-year-old sophomore. Being a cancer survivor became a very significant part of who I am, and it absolutely still is.

So let's talk about all the feelings I have about this. In some ways, this is awesome. Despite the fact that I'm still getting blood tests and echocardiograms, people around me are diagnosed with cancer left and right, I spend a large portion of my time raising money for the LLS, and I work in a cancer research lab, it's good to know that some part of me recognizes that there's more to life than cancer. I still struggle with survivor's guilt from time to time, and it can make me feel obligated to do all of this fundraising and research, but the truth is, sometimes I don't want to do all of that. Sometimes I just want to sing in my band and watch Criminal Minds and not worry about how I'm saving the world from leukemia. And that's okay. My mom said to me a while ago, "You were lucky enough to have been given a second chance at life. You don't owe the world anything. You just need to live." And she's right. And apparently, I'm finally starting to do that.

On the other hand, like I've said, being a survivor has shaped who I am as a person, and I don't want to lose that as I get farther away from the experience. Twenty years from now, I still want to be able to look back on my diagnosis, treatment, and recovery with clarity and remember all of the amazing things I learned during the course of it. I don't really mind being "the girl who wrote that cancer book" or anything like that; there are much worse things I could be, and I am proud of the things I've accomplished post-cancer.

In all honesty, everything I went through was way too traumatizing to ever be completely forgotten, so I'm not particularly worried. But I do find it interesting that I'm at a point in my life where I think seeing emerald green when I hear an E major chord is more intriguing than the time I had blood cancer.

Who knows what the future will bring? I'll report back on my 5th cancerversary and let you know.