Life After

Life after cancer. It’s a complex topic, covering moments of introspection and vulnerability. Nearly two years after my mother’s initial diagnosis in February of 2022, it’s something that she still struggles with. What is normal now? She tells me that there isn’t one. There isn’t a Life After. A definitive line between disease and person is something that will never exist.  There is always an inkling under the surface- White blood cell counts just a little bit too high on the monthly check, a CT scan with a bit of a shaded area every three months. She tells me that there isn’t a single day that goes by where she isn’t thinking about it. Of course, there is a certain appreciation for life that has developed. The grass is greener, the sun is brighter, the kitchen dance parties a bit more joyous. But underneath that there is fear. Fear of the unknown, and the known, the what-if’s and could-be’s.  These images are a collage of normal and rare. Bits and pieces that we took for granted before, like admiring smile lines, and having a hair routine. Images of the job she was absent from for two calendar years. All throughout my childhood home there are relics from her treatments. A wig in her closet- that she only wore once. CT scans and letters of diagnosis in the kitchen drawer. Journals that outline chemo days and symptoms through the weeks. This series aims to show that life goes on, but to say there is a Life After would be far too simple.