So, here I am again. The last time I sat down to write, I was all pumped up about my fitness goals. You know, the typical "New Year, New Me" mantra. I was hitting the gym, counting macros, and practically living off protein shakes. I even posted about it here, all optimistic and ready to conquer the world, one push-up at a time.
Then, life decided to throw me a curveball. While flexing in front of the mirror one day, I noticed a little lump in my neck. At first, I thought it was just my body's way of saying, "Hey, maybe ease up on the neck workouts." But, deep down, I knew it was more than that.
Flashback to a few years ago: I was diagnosed with the big "C." After going through the whole chemo, I came out the other side with a clean bill of health. But here's the thing they don't tell you about surviving cancer—every little bump, ache, or pain feels like a potential return ticket to that hellish ride.
So, I did what any rational person would do: I freaked out. I booked an appointment with my doctor, got a blood examen and then came the waiting game. Those days waiting for the results were pure torture. No amount of yoga or meditation could calm my nerves. It felt like my whole life was on pause, held hostage by a tiny lump.
Finally, the results came in, and—thank the universe—they were negative. The lump was just a benign cyst, nothing to worry about. But here's the kicker: even after hearing the good news, the fear didn't just evaporate. Every year, I still go in for my check-ups, and every year, I hold my breath waiting for the results. It’s a feeling that never really goes away.
Living in the shadow of "what if" is exhausting. It's like having a permanent seat at the edge of your own sanity. But I've learned to manage it, more or less. I still set my fitness goals, I still work out, and I still strive to be the best version of myself. I let myself rest, outsourced some tasks like a robot cutting the grass and gardeners cleaning up the mess of a strange winter.
What I've realized is that life doesn't come with any guarantees. Health scares are just a brutal reminder of how fragile we really are. But that fragility shouldn't stop us from living our lives to the fullest. If anything, it should propel us to cherish every moment, every victory, and even every setback.
So, here's to those of us who live in the shadow of "what if"—may we find the strength to keep moving forward, to keep fighting, and to keep living. Because at the end of the day, that's all we can really do. And maybe, just maybe, that’s enough.
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