The Truth About Cancer

I recently read a blog post about an oncology nurse getting cancer and she wrote everything exactly perfect about cancer so I'm doing my own version of what she wrote.

Hearing the words, "You have cancer." I never thought it would happen to me. I always thought, "I'm so glad I'll never have to worry about that." I was trying to listen to the details and pay attention, but all I could really concentrate on was keeping a straight face. I stayed calm and broke down when I got to my car. There was an incredible amount of weight in the words that I had just been told. I sat in silence and disbelief until I had to go pretend everything was fine at home and church because I didn’t have any details yet. I didn’t even know where to start and my husband's and my mind went straight to very dark places. That day was the worst.

The waiting is unbearable. It’s literally the worst part. The diagnosis process takes forever. The different consults, the biopsies, the exams, the procedures and the scans. Ugh, the scans. I was going through the motions trying to stay positive- but at that point, I had no idea what I was dealing with and the unknown was terrifying. Knowing the cancer is there and knowing you’re not doing anything to treat is yet is an awful, helpless feeling. 

It was so awkward telling people the news. I didn’t know what to say. They didn’t know what to say. No one knew what to say and still don't. I get asked the same questions all the time and they're usually on the surface questions like how do I like my "boob job" and my hair. Ugh. It's nice that everyone knows what I'm going through. The calls, messages and general concern are overwhelming. I have gotten used to others knowing such personal information and I have a beyond incredible support system.

I hang on every word the doctors say. In fact, my first consults gave me a headache because I concentrated so much. I replay the flood of information in my mind a hundred times. I always have so many questions, but at the same time I have no idea what to ask every time I have an appointment.

Google has become my best friend. You know when you get a cold and you search the symptoms and all the sudden you're afraid you have cancer? Well, this time I really do have it. It's surreal. I search for information, hope, stories, reassurance, etc. It's impossible not to. I found an amazing breast cancer facebook support group that has been a wealth of information.

The sad looks. The constant sad looks. Walking down the hall or seeing someone for the first time after finding out. I get the head tilt with a soft “how aaaare you?” I have a rehearsed “Doing pretty good, tired but hanging in there”generic response. Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate all the well wishes and concern, but it has taken a little while to get used to the pity. 

The “other appointments”. All the different types of scans, chemo, radiation, operating rooms, procedural areas. There is so much more behind the scenes than anyone knows. Another doctor? Another appointment? Another day in the life of a cancer patient.

It feels weird to be called, "brave." It’s a word that gets thrown around a lot. Yeah, it kind of makes me feel good, but I still don’t really understand why people call me this. Sure I'm getting through it fine (most days), but it’s not like I have a choice. I’m getting treatment because I have to. Because I want to stay alive. It doesn’t really make me feel like much of a hero.

Cancer makes me crazy. I literally wonder if I have lost every working brain cell. Especially when dealing with side effects or other symptoms. I had just about every side effect in the book from chemo and I still wondered if it was really working the way it’s supposed to. I may just have had a headache, or a common cold, or a sore joint- but I'm never certain it isn't related to cancer and always wonder if it is a sign of progression, even when it makes no sense.

I'm suspicious  I can't help but wonder if the doctors all know something I don't about my prognosis. They share the percentages and stats with me and that every cancer is different, but still. Is there something they're not telling me? Something they're protecting me from or just feel too bad to tell me? Logically, I know the answer to this but find myself with these feelings.

The "options" are confusing. They say everything is an option when really they're not if you want to live. In some cases, there's more than one choice. Whether it's physicians, medications, surgery, etc. I want to be in control, but ultimately I rely heavily on my doctor's opinions.

It is so hard to accept help. But I desperately NEED it. I could not have made it through the first few months without the extra food, gift cards, house cleaning, babysitting, and emotional support I was given. I am humbled at the outpouring. I still wonder if I have said thank you enough. I feel a ton of weight on my shoulders that I need to give back because I have been given so much.

The mood swings. Not just because my hormones are out of whack. One day I feel confident that I'm going to completely beat this with no problem; I can conquer the world. And for no good reason, the next day I'm planning my funeral. I'm thinking of all the "What if's." I think to myself, "I should write out my will. I should write letters to each family member telling them how much I love them so they can keep them just in case I die in a few years." The moods sneak up without warning. 

When I say I'm tired I really mean so much more. Sure there are words like exhaustion and extreme fatigue- but there should really be a separate word just for cancer patients, because it’s crippling. There have been days especially during chemo where I have wondered how I will trudge forward.

Cancer takes away so much time. It has completely taken over my life the last several months. I've had to stop doing things I love, I've had to cancel plans, I miss out on things that are important to me. It just wasn’t in any plans- and that alone has taken a lot of mourning. 

It has been so strange to see my body changing so quickly. I stood there happy, skinny with long blonde hair one minute and quickly turned around to look at myself in the mirror with disbelief. It's the weight gain, the scars, the "new boobs", the hair loss. It’s hard. My appearance is tied more closely to my identity than I'd like to admit and these are constant reminders of what I'm up against. I just want to feel and look like myself.

I worry endlessly about my kids. Not just in terms of lifting restrictions or germs. I worry about how this is going to affect them. I worry about not being able to keep up with them. I worry about leaving them so much for treatments and when I just physically need a break and how it will affect our relationships. I worry about their future praying they'll never know this pain. And I hope they never know the pain of losing a parent during childhood.

The guilt. Especially to Don. Don has had to pick up so much slack- mentally to help keep me focused and calm, and physically at home pulling double weight with never-ending chores. I understand everyone promises “in sickness and in health” when you get married, but I still feel like he didn’t deserve this. I'm so extremely thankful when Don has taken absolute care of me. Making sure I had food, helping me to the bathroom and even bathing me at times. Don lets me rest when I need to, but sometimes my heart hurts overhearing them play in the other room away from me- wondering if that is a glimpse into their future that doesn't have me in it. 

It never ends. Never. They say cancer is just a phase just like high school or something. It seems like it drags on and on when you’re in it, but soon it’ll all be a memory. Yes, there are phases- the treatment won’t last forever, but I'm forever changed now. Physically and spiritually. Moving forward after treatment I have to and desperately want to live my life differently. The worrying won’t stop, the uncertainty won’t stop, the fear of recurrence or an awful end won’t stop. I hear that gets better- time will tell. But time is more precious to me now than ever. 

Most importantly, my testimony has grown immensely. Yes, I get scared and angry. It's part of the human experience. But I never knew faith until it was truly put to the test. I know there's life after death and whatever my outcome is so be it whether it's 5 years or 40 years from now. I know I can be with my family forever. It makes me want to share the gospel with those that have no hope because the gospel is hope. Hope for life after death, that the world is a beautiful place with wonderful people in it and that you can change. I get to look at life with a complete new perspective. It has made me not care about being materialistic. I look at others with more compassion, love and desire to serve them. I'm more grateful for the small and simple things than I have ever been. I could go on and on, but this ugly beast has changed me in the best ways.