Thirty

There is a day that exists in the not so distant future. It has been fast approaching for some time now. This day and the moments leading up to it are filled with anxiety, excitement, fear, and celebration. It will be a regular day for most of you, but so much more for me. The date is February 9th and it is my 30th birthday. 

Thirty is something my friends fear. I've listened to them complain about getting closer to it with child-like disgust, as if it has cooties. I suppose I would too, if it weren't for my mortality being shoved in my face every second. Then again, I've never been the kind of person who places emphasis on such things. I'd like to think that non-cancer Tracy would float gracefully into thirty, looking forward to a new decade of lessons and wisdom. She wouldn't get caught up in the "I'm getting older, it's the end of the world" mind game. In fact, her life would be so busy with a career and children that she wouldn't even have time to ponder something as insignificant as age. But non-cancer Tracy is fictional and it's cancer Tracy that is turning thirty in twenty-two days. 

The truth is, thirty is a little frightening for me too. But not because I'm worried about the early signs of aging or that I'm afraid of getting old. The numbers three and zero together don't threaten me because I'm entering another decade; they threaten me because it's a decade that, statistically, I shouldn't be entering. Thirty, for me, means wondering how many years are left. Thirty is one year away from the five year mark - the statistical mark that most stage IV women never make it to, and even fewer make it past. Thirty represents a parallel of unyielding happiness and overwhelming fear. 

And so, cancer Tracy will handle this birthday quite differently, because she's had plenty of time to listen to the little voice in the back of her head. The one that's wondered for three and a half years if she'd even make it this far. Cancer sucks in so many ways that I could never use enough horrible words to express it, but cancer is the reason this birthday is so meaningful. Because of cancer, thirty is something I will embrace with open arms. I will clutch it in the deepest trenches of my being. I will savor every sweet moment that thirty has to offer. It isn't a birthday, it's a victory - like reaching the top of a mountain that everyone said you couldn't climb. Thirty is my golden globe and I will display it as such. 

Thirty is also a beginning, a new era if you will. My thirties will be the decade of my dreams coming true and an extension of the things I've already achieved. I decided early on that thirty was a number I had to get out of my head if I planned on getting to forty. And I do plan on getting to forty. Because I believe that if life can change so suddenly and dramatically for the worse, it can also do the same for the better. Hell, I've already defied statistics. Here's to many more years of better.

Happy Birthday to me!