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My first morning in Maui, I sat on thelanaiand I cried.
Kayaking and snorkeling in Kealakekua Bay
For five months my life had been inscribed bychemotherapy.
Everything I did, I did because I felt well enough to do it.
Everything I missed, I missed because treatment kept me from it.
On the lanai, looking out, looking back, and looking forward.
I was no longer abreast cancerpatient undergoing chemotherapy, yet I wasnt free from either cancer or chemo.
I started reaping the benefits of the getaway almost immediately.
Like a prophecy for the Rapture: a big deal that may never come.
Flowing lava (and the hubby) at Volcanoes National Park
Even as I turned the calendar page from January to February, it failed to seem real.
But that changed when the flight confirmation landed in my email.
I had something tangible to look forward to.
I was actually excited for something.
At the same time, I was bidding a bittersweet farewell to my body as I know it.
I was going on my boobymoon.
The moment I stepped ontothe planeI was transported out of my reality and into vacation mode.
There was Hawaiian music playing and the flight attendants had flowers in their hair.
I sipped a Mai Tai.
I expected Id have spent time with them the night before and had a chance to explain my situation.
Not that it would have.
Then I sat on the balcony, looked out over the Pacific, and burst into tears.
I was so happy, but I was so confused.
I was no longer a chemo patient, but I wasnt reallynotone, either.
And though I had a sense of being done, my journey was far from over.
By 40 Id have my ovaries removed (a bonus of beingBRCA1-positive).
Id never made it to 10 days; the treatments were weekly.
But I was fine and fantastically thrilled to be fine.
The earth there had been forever changed.
Yet as it cooled, it calmed and grew stronger.
Soon it would be solid.
In days it would be rock.
Soon my body would be forever changed.
I pictured myself in my new topography, stronger, solid, rock.
And I knew that one day Id again be calm.
I thought about something the instructors said the morning of that strength workout.
Theyd started the class with anoli, a traditional chant to consecrate an event.
In translating it into English, they told us about the Hawaiian interpretation that time is not linear.
They described it as a spiral: The past informs the present, which informs the future.
It’s part of my future, too.
A future it will have helped me reach, a future in which I could need it again.
In coming to Hawaii, I wanted to get far, far away from my life for a spell.
After my own personal volcanic eruption, the boobymoon got significantly lighter.
I packed a bikinibut only sported a high-necked, cap-sleeved one-piece with a thick layer of SPF 45 sunscreen.
I wore leggings in a canoe.
