Aidan Read Online Free Page A

antidepressants, which made me into little more than a zombie. It did help with the tightness in my chest, though, and lessened my nausea. The downside? I wanted to do nothing but sleep.
    After I finished my treatments, I had reconstruction surgery. After my breast was removed, I could hardly stand to look at myself in the mirror. The puckered scars reminded me every day of what I’d lost. It was impossible to forget I’d had cancer when the empty bra cup reminded me constantly. I had expected a huge wave of relief to fill me with my reconstructed breast, so I resented its foreign feel. It was almost as if I blamed it for everything, which was absurd. No one ever said that anything about having cancer was rational. Eventually, I learned to accept it but continued to mourn the loss of the one cut from my body. The scars were minimal thanks to a skilled surgeon, but I could see them because I knew where to look. Anyone else would have to study that breast closely to see the thin silvery lines.
    It’s been almost a year since I finished my last round of radiation, yet I haven’t been able to get off the anti-depressants. Even now, when I’m officially in remission and cancer-free, I’m terrified that the anxiety and depression will return should I go off them. Before my cancer, I felt invincible with my whole life ahead of me. Now, I know it can all be taken away in the blink of an eye. Cancer took many things from me, but probably the most shattering was my innocence and the belief that nothing bad could ever happen to me. Even with my medication, I find myself constantly looking ahead and checking for any sign of trouble. A simple case of the sniffles is enough to send me into full-blown panic mode. I will never again assume that a minor illness is nothing. I’ll always be waiting for the other shoe to drop. Or in this case, for the cancer to return. I’m no longer Kara Jacks, daughter of Peter and Charlotte Jacks. Nor am I simply sister to Kyle Jacks. No, first and foremost, at least in my mind, I’m Kara Jacks, cancer survivor .
    It’s insane the things that went through my head after I completed radiation. I mourned the fact that I could never fill out a health history form without checking the box for cancer. Then having to use the space provided below to explain. Before my diagnosis, I’d loved my ample C-cups. Afterward, I found myself wondering if I was being punished for my vanity in displaying them in low-cut tops. As if dressing more demurely would have kept me from getting cancer.
    Again, the word lucky is something I hear far too often. You’re so lucky you caught it early. You’re so lucky it hasn’t spread. You’re so lucky they got it all. Then I feel like a fucking ungrateful bitch who doesn’t deserve to be cancer-free because I don’t feel lucky. Am I glad to be alive and in remission? Absolutely. But nowhere in there do I feel fortunate. Instead, I’ve let myself become the victim. Cancer took away my power, and I’ve yet to wrestle it back. That mindset is the reason I’m here now. I love my parents, but I can’t regain my independence while they’re standing over me wringing their hands every time I grimace. I’m feeding their paranoia and in turn, they’re feeding mine. It’s not their fault—far from it. I wouldn’t have gotten through everything that I have without them firmly by my side. Now, it’s time for me to put myself back together again. I need to find the confident, fearless woman I once was and bring her back again.
    Amazingly enough, a version of that person made an appearance for the first time in a year last night, and it was almost effortless. I’m no virgin, and I’m no whore. I’ve had sex. I’ve been in casual relationships. I went through a spell after my cancer-free announcement where I felt the need to reaffirm that I was still alive and sex was the way I did it. But it was different with Aidan. Possibly because he’s not just a face in a crowd.