You haven't gone swimming since the diagnosis, and maybe you shouldn't, but you feel so alive teetering on the lake's edge, where a breeze traces the lines of your limbs and cold water laps at your toes. A shriek catches itself on your tongue, tasting of glee and exhilaration and freedom. The lake's surface reflects blurry constellations and you are already anticipating your body slicing through Ursa Major and sending thrills rippling through you; cold, invigorating. The thought alone makes you shiver, as though phantom water droplets are dripping down your thin skin. Enough waiting, you decide.