What a Year with Cancer has Shown Me
It’s been a year. That’s right one year since this traumatic life changing journey began and it all began in the shower Sunday morning, June 11th, 2017. You’d think nothing can begin in a shower that would be life changing but the truth is, if you know your body well everything can change. And the truth is, life can change in a split-second no matter what you’re doing.
For me though, it was that fateful day one year ago. Showering like normal, getting ready for my day, enjoying the water wash over me, I felt it. I stood confused and checked the other side. Maybe I was imagining it? Maybe it was nothing, trying to convince myself that my gut was wrong. “I’ll call the doctor tomorrow” I told myself, “just in case”. Monday came and went, and like normal I put everyone else’s needs before mine, I never called the doctor. Tuesday, I remembered to. Wednesday, I went to see him and though he barely felt it, he sent me for more tests. The following Monday, I was having a mammogram and ultra sound.
Want to know what it’s like to watch a techs face as they see masses on a screen for an otherwise very healthy woman? They try their best to not show anything, but you see the urgency as the go out to speak with the doctor, and then she comes in to take more pictures. They try to reassure you that it’s probably nothing, you know better. Your gut has been telling you for a week now that something is very wrong. “You’ll need a biopsy” she says, “two sites.” Crap, I only felt one. This thing is invading me.
The following Monday is biopsy day. It’s also my daughter’s little brother’s first birthday. We’ll be going to celebrate after the biopsy. At this point, I don’t know what will happen, I just know that if it’s bad, I should get to know my ex’s current well, who knows she may have to take my place one day. Yes, these are the things that ran through my mind. Can you blame me? I felt like I was living in a movie.
Three days later, that’s all it took, three days to hear back from my doctor the words, I was hoping not to hear, but expecting “you have breast cancer.” You know how when you’re hit with bad news, you sometimes need to sit down and other times you need to move. I needed to move, I paced around the conference room until I finished speaking with the doctor, then I fell into the chair. It was like being kicked in the gut, the air being ripped from my lungs, I could speak, I wouldn’t speak, I just sat there, thinking “fuck.” I ‘ve lost four important people in my life to cancer within four years, it’s like cancer had been chasing me, trying to catch up and it finally wrapped its tentacles around me.
It’s been a year since that first day, so much has happened, my life hijacked by doctors promising to cure me. Sticking me with needles, running scans, filling my body with poison that yes, weakened the cancer, but also killed a part of me. I’m not entirely sure that I mind the changes. So, what’s happened in a year?
Besides starting six months of chemo, losing my hair, having a double mastectomy (by choice), five weeks of radiation, physical therapy, lots of pills, more chemo (this time pill form) lots of pain, lots of trying to be positive, lots of denying the feelings I’ve buried deep inside so no one saw me cry including me? I’ve learned a lot. I’ve learned that it’s ok to take time outs for me, it’s ok to leave my house without my phone. I’ve learned that there are people who will be there and those that won’t, and you’ll be very surprised at who is there in times like this.
I’ve learned family is who you invite to be in your family, not those who were born into it. Sharing DNA does not make you family at all. I’ve learned that some people may love you but are so freighted by what you’re going through that they can’t be there for you and eventually stop speaking to you all together, but they watch you on social media. I’ve learned to tell people that I don’t want them there because guess what, your negativity affects my wellbeing and I get to be selfish and say no to it.
I’ve also learned that doing this alone sucks. Yes, I had wonderful people in my life supporting me, coming to appointments, checking in on me and I appreciate these people greatly. What I mean is at night, at home, alone in my bed with no one to tell me it’s going to be ok is one of the hardest parts of all of this. Especially when you’re trying to be strong for your daughter and trying to keep her life normal. It makes you think that maybe it’s time to stop worrying about whether she’ll be happy if you start dating and realize that it’s ok to want a companion and partner. It’s time to start working on finding that, though it means looking back and healing all the pains of past relationships. If I can beat cancer surely do this.
Cancer makes you less fearful of everyday nonsense, I mean let’s be real, what’s more traumatic being told you have cancer, or that break up from twenty years ago. I’m not saying that all those pains from past failed relationships aren’t traumatic, I’m saying that once you face death, it opens your eyes to what’s important; like taking care of you and not letting the past hold you back anymore.
I’ve learned a lot in the past year, a lot about myself as well as the events in my life that I’ve let stop me from achieving my goals. And about how I’ve settled for less because I’ve let others tell me my worth. It’s all done over now, those thoughts of not being worthy, of not deserving to be heard. I have cancer to thank for that. And though this was not what I planned for my life, I’m learning to understand that sometimes life will force you to look at what you aren’t doing but should.
They say I’m cancer free now, have been technically since surgery, even though there was residual cancer in post op pathology and even though, I’ve had more treatment. I’m still in treatment for the next four months, but they say I’m cancer free, I don’t feel that way though. I feel like for me, I’ll be free once active treatment is over. For me, I’ll say those words then, because well, I don’t know why, it just doesn’t feel like it’s over and if it’s not over, I’m not free, but I’m grateful.
I’m grateful for this reset that cancer has given me, I’m grateful for the lessons I’m learning about myself. It’s a journey, I wouldn’t wish for anyone, but for me it had to happen because I never would have stopped doing what was needed instead of living my life if is wasn’t for that lump I found a year ago. Life if interesting, the universe has a plan for each of us, that we know nothing about. Sometimes, it forces you to step back and look so you can learn the lessons you refuse to see.
