Feet Back Under Me: Different Doesn’t Mean Easy or Lucky

From my own personal experience and from reading posts from many different people I am starting to see people, who have had cancer and who haven’t , almost catogorize what level of good or bad you went through because it was different. I have two experiences that show two different ways people did not think before they spoke.

1.  I am fairly open about my cancer and what kind I have. Often people ask me for the kind of cancer after they find out I have had it. I was in a group of college students when this came up and I said I had Endometrial Cancer and explained it was a form of uterine cancer. One person actually told me that I was lucky it wasn’t breast cancer or something. No one in this group of people seemed to understand just how out of line that statement was.  What was lucky about this?  Was I lucky that I was bleeding so much that in less than a week I had 5 units of blood given to me?  Was I lucky to be told that I would never be able to have my own kids?  Was I lucky that I was thrown into surgical
Menopause at the age of 33?  Perhaps I was lucky to have had to go through 6 rounds of chemo therapy. Maybe I was lucky to have to spend a minimum of a week on my back after each treatment because I was too tired to move which was ok since moving made me want to throw up the tiny bit of food and drink I had managed to swallow. Perhaps I was lucky that I lost all of my hair?  Maybe I was lucky that 5 and a half years later I still can’t drive from Virginia to Michigan because it wipes me out to the point of shaking I’m so tired and my eyes go all blurry from exhaustion?   Doesn’t sound very lucky to me.

2.  As mentioned above, one of the things I’m apparently “lucky” to have experienced in a cancer other than breast cancer is infertility. In a very misguided attempt to try to make me feel better about this daily struggle a complete stranger who over heard a conversation I was having with a friend on the phone felt it was her responsibility to make me feel better. She leaned over after I hung up (I was in a coffee shop) and informed me that the bright side of not being able to have kids is I can spend more time for myself and not have to constantly be thinking about someone else. Also, according to her, if I really wanted to have a kid someday I could adopt.   From a complete stranger!  I was in shock!!  Let’s see, spend more time on me when all I have ever wanted more than anything was to be a mother. And yes, let me dip into my savings and pull out about $20 to $30 grand to start the adoption process. Because the average single woman just has that kind of money laying around. And let’s completely ignore the struggle of accepting this complete and total reversal of what you had hoped and prayed for your life to be.

Now, perhaps these people don’t hear their own words. Maybe they honestly think they are giving up happy news or sage advice. I don’t know. But I do know this kind of unthought and sometimes unsolicited advice isn’t just something cancer survivors have to deal with. Anyone who is going through something painfully difficult will find themselves the recipient of these “helpful” words. From miscarriages to chronic health conditions to loosing family members to being separated from loved ones due to military deployments or multiple work trips. I am begging everyon, no matter who you are to the person you are talking to...take two seconds and ask if these words are perhaps the best way to express yourself.   Too often I have found myself staring in shock at people and unable to form words. Or sometimes just trying to smile and shrug it off because I don’t have the emotional energy to engage at that moment. It isn’t our sole responsibility to kindly and gently correct someone that their words are in fact like daggers to the heart. Let’s all be aware how our words affect others.

That all being said, I really don’t want to end this post on a negative note so I want to look at all the things I am blessed with after going through this experience.
1. I am blessed to have deepened my Faith.
2.  I am blessed that I found a direction in life that lead me to a field of work that I love!
3. I am blessed that I was able to work through some of the pain of not having children and found a love for fostering.
4.  I am blessed by the people I meant along my journey and that I continue to meet and be inspired by and learn from.
5.  I am blessed to have my family and close friends encourage me and be there for me when I’m laughing and when I’m crying.
6.  I am blessed that even though my energy isn’t the same, each year I am doing more and more and pushing back that wall of exhaustion.
7.  I am blessed that in a few minutes I’ll finish up my lunch break and dive back into my job and look forward to the many fun things I have planned to do...because I CAN!

Feet Back Under Me: Unexpected

Today has been a different kind of day. And not for any of the reasons I thought it would be.  For a while now, I have been encouraged to consider genetic counseling and genetic testing.  I really fought this for a long time.  It was something that in my mind only held bad news.  That something terrible was going to be found.  That out of this test I would only hear devastating words.  In my mind nothing good could come out of this.

It is crazy how you can build something up so much that it becomes this menacing, faceless thing that no one else seems to understand will crush you.  You find yourself unable to face it and all you want to do is run away.  It's like this every time genetic counseling or testing was brought up to me until one day this week...it wasn't.  As the doctor talked about it I waited for the anxiety to build uncontrollably and become overwhelming.  But all I could think was...my sister was right.  I needed to face this.  And I was finally ready to face this.

Since I was diagnosed I have had severe anxiety whenever I had to go to the doctor's office.  I don't think I have ever gotten a normal blood pressure reading at any visit!  My coping mechanism was to act like it was no big deal to most people, but my parents can fully attest that this is a very thin façade.  However, since moving out of Michigan and getting to where I am now, I have had to learn to go to the doctor's alone.  No buffer to reach out to and touch and ground myself.  I had to do that job on my own.  And I am pretty bad at it.  At 39 I am not ashamed to say that I call my parents on a pretty regular basis and more so when I have to see a doctor.

I was at the oncologist's office for the first time in a few years this week to check up on two years of irregular cells found on my annual tests.  And oddly enough, through the anxiety and fear that is a constant companion when I am at any doctor's office lately, I found myself not just acting calm...but starting to feel calm.  I felt like for the first time in a long time that this part of my life was going to be ok.  That I had doctors who I could trust and I knew understood what has happened and what I was going through every day since then.  That the nightmare was in fact not waiting around the corner to grab me again.  And  when genetic counseling was gently suggested and explained, I found myself actually wanting those answers.  No trumpets heralded this total Mentanoa.  It was this gentle shift from acting like I can handle this alone to actually being able to handle this but not feeling completely alone.

And so today I met with the genetic counselor who explained the scary monster and suddenly it wasn't so scary.  It was science.  It was order and made sense.  It was almost reassuring how the process works and what they look for and why they look for specific things.  It is like making a plan and feeling like someone who knows has your back.  It's everything I feel when I step into my church and come face to face with God.  Its realizing that in this science and order is the same reassuring God Who is in my church, my soul and in my faith.  He has always been there beside me and I have always felt Him there.  But tonight, thinking back on the afternoon, I realize that He isn't just there to be that comfort...He is handing me all the strength I need to live my life and to take care of myself.  To not be afraid of what I don't know.  And to not live in fear of what might happen.

My dad is always telling me that life is what happens when you are busy planning.  This doesn't mean not to plan but rather, live your life every day.  And today that included taking a trip from the second floor of the cancer center to the first floor and breathing through a blood draw and then letting it go for four weeks.  Tonight it meant watching a movie and tomorrow it means going to a beeping Easter Egg hunt.  In four weeks it will mean to create a plan to make sure my doctors and I are keeping an eye on the right things, and then go home and prepare for my respite foster kiddos.  And who knows what else the future holds.  I know I will be afraid and anxious still sometimes but today I let go of that and it felt good.