I did not know much about cancer, or the side effects of treatment before I myself was diagnosed. I expected I would feel sick often, my hair would fall out and I would likely not be able to taste properly or at all. What I did not consider, until the very moment it became my reality is that chemotherapy would wreak havoc on my gastrointestinal system. If we stop to think about it, it makes perfect sense. All of that toxic liquid is being pumped into our veins and like anything else, it’s gotta come out one way or the other!
Join me for more on my cancer recovery and why it is so important to self-advocate.
Imagine a lone potential criminal debating murder openly – and it’s an acceptable open debate. A random, innocent person who did nothing to inflame someone enough to elicit such a contemplation who has to listen to their potential attacker debate whether they should go through with their heinous, unthinkable act. Whether the attempt was made or not, the fact is that the potential victim is already aware that someone wants to do them harm. Such an experience could lead to a lifetime of looking over ones shoulder, waiting for them to change their mind. It could be the end of their feeling of safety in the world.
I spent days incredulous, trying to make sense of the senseless. I knew that even sympathizers could not truly understand what I was feeling. I had to do something about it.
I felt guilty for doing what was natural to me all too often; sharing. I heard it often enough that it became part of my internal dialogue. I started scolding myself for sharing, questioning everything I said to my friends, and at times even felt shame for sharing. At some point over the years, I decided to give myself grace and settled into the type of comfort only people who genuinely know and love themselves can understand. After my diagnosis, I began noticing how people reacted to my honesty. It is no surprise that people are uncomfortable with talking about ‘the big C’. I am acutely aware of this, as I used to be one of those people. I also recognized that people just do not like the feeling of experiencing someone else’s negative feelings. It’s never pleasant and many people default to fixers. Still, I had this driving need to honor myself, to speak my truth, and, maybe most importantly in this case, to raise awareness of an illness I never even knew existed until I was sitting in front of a doctor telling me I had it.
On December 8th 2020, I published an article called Three Years Later. It was an unplanned release motived by the realization that the next day would be the three year anniversary of my cancer diagnosis; my cancerversary. It was 9:30pm on Monday December 7th and I was trying to will myself to sleep so IContinue reading “Overcoming the Whispers of Self-Doubt”
It was three years ago, right this very moment, I sat on the side of my bed, covered in bruises, blood vessels bursting, hemorrhaging, on the phone with TeleHealth to ask them if they thought I should go to work or not. I intended on going. I had already missed a full week in the office for the muscle I had locked in my hip days before. I didn’t want to miss anymore time at work.
It was easy to pass it off as not a big deal. Like I was being a big baby. I should just suck it up because duty calls.
I allowed the emotions to visit me because it’s healthy to remember from where and how far you’ve come. Not only to pat myself on the back for my progress but also as continued motivation.
I only stayed there for a very short while; a few minutes at best. It’s not healthy to stay there any longer. It’s in the past and serves no great purpose. Instead, I began thinking about what it took to break the anxiety. Not only learning the lessons of how to be healthier mentally but also to begin putting those lessons into practice.
One of the things I promised myself was I would never lead my life with fear again.
I just wanted to ask them a few questions to try to prove a point. I was totally unprepared for the responses I received, and especially the answers I didn’t receive. In my ignorance, I believed that people would be as eager to share their experience as I am. It didn’t occur to me right away that this would be a complex investigation that may be triggering and painful to people for a number of reasons…but it’s not my story to tell. I typed the words, but it’s their story and you need to hear it.
Today is the first day I’ve been alone in eight weeks. I simply could not have anticipated how a global pandemic, Covid19 (formerly known as the Coronavirus) would impact me. I mean, going from feeling like the strongest opponent in the world after coming so close to the brink of death, to a near full recovery was an almost euphoric feeling that was quite short lived. In fact, I swore I wasn’t going to write about this. Eight weeks later, here I am, writing about it.
When you think of what cancer treatment might be like or even what you’ve witnessed in the past, what’s the first thing that comes to mind? Sick people laying in a hospital bed? That’s what I thought of. It’s even an accurate depiction of what I had experienced up to the point I was diagnosed with Acute Promyelocytic Leukemia. I’m happy to say, gone are the days of spending all day in a hospital bed during cancer treatment – at least the expectation of. I wore my own clothes in the hospital, cleaned my own body, made my own bed and even used the hospital kitchenette to heat up and eat the home cooked food that others brought for me. All that said, there is nothing that could have prepared me for the day my oncologist told me how much I should be exercising during treatment.