I've been wearing a breast cancer bracelet that jingles with charms in the shapes of hearts, with inspiring little messages like Go with your heart. One of the heart charms is a watch. My friend sent me this shortly after my breast cancer diagnosis. I love this bracelet. So I was sad the other day when the glass piece covering the watch somehow cracked and shattered. I only realized this when I tried to check the time and learned that my watch was not actually telling time anymore. So I went for my back-up -- another watch, exactly the same and also given to me as a gift. I replaced my old watch with the new watch and then days later, my new watch was not working. I think water got inside the glass and damaged the battery or the mechanisms -- or something. I'm sure I could repair the watches -- and I considered this -- but then it entered my mind that maybe this is a message that I am okay now without all my breast cancer gear.

Maybe my need for all things breast cancer is not as critical as it once was. Like my rubbery, pink bracelet that reads Spread beauty. Share hope. I once wore it every day. Now I can't find it. And like the  bracelet I made myself, with pink and white and silver beads and one special bead that reads Hope. I still have it. It sits in my medicine cabinet. And I don't wear it. I have also found that I am forgetting important information about my cancer. My mom and I were talking about breast cancer the other day -- and I could not remember what kind of cancer I had. I have since remembered -- invasive ductal carcinoma -- but I went blank at the time. I couldn't recall it from memory -- yet there was a time when I could recite every fact and figure related to my diagnosis. Now that time has passed, things are getting blurry and my personal adornments are falling by the wayside. My breast cancer purse has been replaced by a new purse my sister gave me. My breast cancer candle has completely burned out. My Cancer Center parking pass is no longer active. My numbing cream -- for my port -- is about to expire.

Perhaps this all has something to do with the end of my treatment -- which came yesteray with my last of 17 doses of Herceptin. Perhaps the end of my treatment journey -- where material things kept me inspired and motivated and focused -- is giving way to a new chapter in my life. Perhaps I will be okay now on my own -- without inspiring messages and jewelry and pink candles. And without treatment. Only time will tell. And I plan to pay little attention to the time. I just plan to enjoy my time -- without urgency, without stress, without keeping track. Without a watch.