Last week, I had a nightmare.
In the dream, I was told by my doctor that my cancer had returned. A treatment plan had to be made. People had to be informed.
In my dream, I was sad, disappointed, surprised, but not shocked. I thought, "I don't want to go through cancer treatment. Well, the good thing about this is that I'll get to see Katie." I also thought, "Now I know how Katie felt when she heard this."
I worried that I couldn't put my parents through this again. Losing Katie had just about done them in; I couldn't bear to see them suffer like that again.
I wondered who was going to be able to take care of me.
I was partway through the day when I remembered the nightmare. I realized that I had been a little bit "off" all day, and that might have been the reason.
When I told my mom about it, she said, "Well, of course; it was the 16th."
The 16th (of August, 2007) is the date on which Katie passed away. I don't mark it every single month on the day anymore, but I do think about it.
I've never had cancer, but I have lived with it as a friend, caregiver and family member.
Apparently, my subconscious is still working on it.