...and my labs look good, too. I don't have to go back to Moffitt until December. God in his mercy continues to keep me cancer free, for now.

I say "for now" not because I have any sense of impending doom, but because (just keeping it real, folks), I've been treated for a rare and aggressive form of cancer that tends to favor metastasizing to the lungs.

I also say "for now" because I tend to think individuals that have never personally experienced cancer expect for the rest of us to maintain a relentless degree of positive thinking.

I'm not nay saying being positive...there were times in my own treatment where a "fake it till you make it" smile was what got me through the day. But no one can be positive all of the time.

For those of us that have been there, we know that recovery means that cancer becomes less and less a part of our everyday lives. I don't think about my cancer constantly, but I am never without reminders.

My scars may be (slowly) fading, but the cloud still lurks, ever so subtly at times. That persistent cough I had several weeks ago...could that be lung mets? The stabbing pain that pops up at the end of long days...surgical adhesions or something more malicious? Is my intermittent alexia leftover from the chemo bombardment (do you know that my system STILL hasn't fully cleared the noxious stuff??) or just the result of being a somewhat harried mommy of four? Is life feeling pretty good at the moment....what could be lurking around the corner?

Funny, in Cancer World (thank you Leroy Sievers), the newbies stand out above even the most chemo and radiation battered combatant. They wander around the center, fumble through the system, and well, they don't yet get it.

"She's awfully friendly", I hear stage whispered about sweet Margie, the clinic receptionist who knows the names of all of my children, stops me to hear the latest news on my way out the door, and hands out hugs to all of her "darlin's".

"Well...", one of the nearby veterans says, "she's seen a lot of us through quite a bit".

They'll get it soon enough. They'll understand why someone would ask for a specific tech to start their IV (God bless you, my brother Phillip!). Or how despite seeing hundreds of patients a day, Laura at the lab knows exactly how your hair has changed in the last four months. Or how complete strangers can have uplifting and encouraging--but NOT relentlessly positive conversations in the hospital halls and end up corresponding with one another.

God willing, someday they'll also understand how despite utter exhaustion and four kids at home waiting to be fed, a day at Moffitt can be a really, really good day.