I have to admit it. Life will never return to what it once was. Cancer is a large part of that change, and I'm still catching up to the implications. I've now been out of treatment for more than a year and a half, and I still have several major side effects of treatment. My chest wall is tender, my side and upper arm are numb, my toes are numb. I've gained weight again. Due to the numbness in my feet, I keep stubbing my toes. One of them is now broken.

I drew two cards yesterday. The first is "Fern" from the Druid Plant Oracle. It's a wild, lovely, stormy card, with rushing water, lightning and clouds in the sky, and prolific ferns on the banks of the water.

The second is the King of Cups from my Baroque Bohemian Cats Tarot. He's a saucy sourpuss. My memories of who I am point to the ferns and say "that's me." But my feelings of upset at all the change and trauma and uncertainty, points more to the king. He looks staid, steady, not at all at home in the woods, camping, kayaking, scuba diving, and exploring the world. He looks like a stay-at-home kitty. Content to follow his dreams in a quiet way. Have I become that cat? Am I slowing down? Do I need to stop assuming that I'll become a hiking, diving, kayaking outdoorswoman again someday?

I don't know yet. But it certainly is something to think about.