Lesson six: It's not over until it's over. And over. And over.

Why am I doing this?

During the past week I've asked myself this question over and over. Why am I putting so much time and thought into writing little lessons about things I'd rather not think about? After all, it's not as if anyone begged me to please please PLEASE reveal the most important things I've learned from cancer, like the thousands of Dickens readers lining the wharf in New York eagerly awaiting the next installment of Little Nell. Does Little Bev live or die? Stay tuned for the exciting conclusion of our tale!

Of course I'm aware that last summer when I started writing about my struggle with cancer, my page views spiked. As a former journalist, I know what sells--pain, conflict, life-and-death struggles--but it's a little disconcerting to find that I'm much more interesting when I'm writing about cancer than when I'm writing about teaching or gardening or walking the dog. Every journalist knows the litany: "Dog Bites Man" isn't news, but everyone is interested in "Man Bites Dog."

How about "Cancer Bites Bev"? That's a story.

Except it lacks one essential ingredient of a good story: an ending. Real life doesn't always provide tidy conclusions the ways Dickens did, so I'm writing this to provide an artificial sense of closure. I need closure. I live by lists, experiencing a frisson of pleasure every time I manage to cross off a task and move on to the next one, but when will I be able to cross cancer off my list?

My cancer is most likely to recur in the first two years, and if it doesn't recur within five years then I've beaten the odds. But it could always come back somewhere else--and in the long term, I could develop secondary cancers from all that radiation. So it's not over until it's over, and even then it may not be over. Look at Henrietta Lacks! Her cancer is still growing in petri dishes all over the world.

If I can't cross cancer off my list of things to do, I'll cross off "survive first year after diagnosis" so I can move on to the next task. This little list of lessons is my way of concluding this exciting installment of my life, even though I don't know whether it's the end of a chapter or the end of the book or merely the end of Book One.

Cancer taught me that truth is stranger than fiction, but that won't stop me from turning the page to see what's next.