Hello from the other side

hello

Hey party people! I’m still alive, if you were wondering. (Although if you ever are actually wondering, it only takes a few clicks to verify that I’m still kicking.) I keep meaning to update ye olde blog but have not succeeded as of late. And it’s not for a lack of having anything to say. In fact, I have had lots of things to say, and my mind has been churning constantly with thoughts and feelings and all that fun stuff that I really should put down in words. But it seems it gets harder to share my innermost thoughts the further I get away from the cancer stuff. When I was living it every day, it was easy to write about, and almost expected. Of course I was thinking about cancer while my hair was falling out and my body was throbbing. But now as the years have thankfully started to pass (#blessed) and I shed my Cancer Girl persona, it seems almost jarring to bring it back into the conversation. Cancer? Really? You still have stuff to say about that crap?

I have less to say, definitely, but I’m not done just yet. Although less frequent, I still am prone to panicking over every new pain/bump/anomaly that presents itself and still have this unsettled feeling of a bomb about to go off. Every time I learn of another young woman who has become terminal 3/5/10 years out of original diagnosis, the world stops and I am crushed by the weight of my mortality. That could be me. I could be dead in a few years. Don’t get comfortable because this could all end soon.

That’s some heavy shit right there.

I was talking to someone recently about the potential for catastrophic disaster in my future and trying to accept that reality, but also embracing the more probable likelihood that everything will turn out okay. I told her that no matter how much I have learned to be comfortable with my situation and try my best not to let it affect me, I’m still pissed off that I have to deal with any of this in the first place. I’m annoyed more than anything. I have these competing voices constantly battling for my attention:

You’re so lucky to still be alive! Seize every moment! Stop watching The Bachelor and go save the world!

Be mindful. Be present. You’re here now and you’re okay and that’s all that matters.

Stop stressing! Get more sleep! Exercise more! Stop eating pizza! You might die!

My back hurts. Was that pain there before? No, that’s a new pain. The internet says my cancer has probably spread and I’m toast. Shit. I’m so sad I won’t be able to enjoy the bagels and lox at my funeral.

It’s exhausting.

And then I feel guilt. Guilt because everything is actually, really great right now and none of my fears have become a reality. Guilt because I have friends who are not so lucky and would trade places with me in a second. Guilt for feeling like I’m not doing enough with whatever extra years I have been given.

See? Annoying, right? It’s just plain and simple a pain in the butt that I have to think about any of these things and can’t walk around in blissful ignorance like a person should be doing at my age.

And I guess this is why I’ve been staying away for awhile. Because I don’t want anyone to worry about me, or think that I haven’t moved on. I have moved on and continue every day to do that in the best way I know how. But moving on doesn’t mean it goes away, or even that it gets any easier. It’s always hard. We all carry the scars of the past and we’re all headed toward an uncertain future. But I’m choosing to live in that space in between. Or trying my best, at least. And right now that space is filled with family, friends, tv marathons, delicious food and laughter. And singing. So much wonderful, terrible, embarrassing singing.

Hold on for one more day

This past Friday, I was once again a patron of the chemo ward. As you may or may not recall from previous posts, although I am technically done the chemotherapy part of my treatment, I still need to receive infusions every three weeks for one year. This is because I have an aggressive form of breast cancer, and there is an antibody that was created specifically to target this type of cancer. It has been referred to as “the most important advance in breast cancer therapy in 30 years.” Although it’s a bummer to have over a year of infusions, it’s a small price to pay to help increase the odds that I will be alive and kicking a few years from now. I am very grateful to be receiving this therapy, and to be part of a clinical trial involving another targeted drug. In conclusion, science is awesome.

My treatment this round went fairly smoothly. The only time I started to cry was when I was watching another young woman cry who was having trouble getting her IV started. I hate watching other people in pain. And despite the amazing nurses and staff at the hospital, the chemo ward can still be a fairly unsettling place to spend your time. Sometimes I see people who look as though they are about two steps from death’s door. I often feel like I don’t belong. Did someone make a mistake? Do I really have cancer? It still hits me like a punch in the gut sometimes. I don’t know if I will ever get used to being part of this world. I don’t think I want to get used to it.

I have been having some pretty severe muscle pains and stomach issues. But compared to how I usually feel right now during my chemo cycles, my energy is definitely about a million times better, as is my state of mind, so I’m very hopeful that the next year will not be as rough as the past several months have been. I am really praying that the worst is behind me.

Last week, my blog and I were featured on the website She Does The City. I am always very flattered every time someone contacts me asking if they can publish one of my posts or have me write something for them. When I first started this blog, I had no idea that it would spread the way it has or that it would actually create any type of impact. I have had many people write to me, telling me that I have helped them feel less alone while they are dealing with a cancer diagnosis, and these types of messages help give some sort of meaning to this absurd journey I have been on. Considering how isolated I have been, I have made so many connections with all sorts of people. Writing and having people urging me to write has truly been one of the only upshots of this experience. Something providing me with a purpose. So I suppose I should thank the internet, and modern day communication. And thank everyone who reads and reaches out to me and tells me I am doing something helpful during a very scary and very challenging time in my life.

Today I declared that I felt strong enough for some “cancer dancing” and danced around to  various cheesy songs until I felt that my limbs were about to fall off. I was bouncing around for about fifteen minutes, which is fifteen minutes longer than I could stand a few weeks ago. And I didn’t fall down, despite the pain in my legs. An insignificant event for most. A major accomplishment for little ol’ me.


That’s my sister with me in the video. What’s the point in embarrassing yourself if you can’t take someone else down with you? Also, the scarf on my head was forgotten by a friend at my house one night, accidentally. Moral of the story: if you leave something in my home, it will most likely end up on my head.

throwback thursday

When you wake up one day
and big chunks of your hair are falling out
because you’ve had your first dose of chemotherapy
and your chest aches
and it is hard to move freely
because you’ve had your breasts removed
and you have ugly scars all over the place
and you know everything is about to get a lot worse
you can crawl into the corner and put a bag over your head and scream

or you can put on a really cheesy pop song
and dance really poorly
even though your plastic surgeon would probably not be too pleased

Sometimes, you just make a choice.