Fears…we all have them. Some rational, some irrational but they are ours. I’m not fearless. I have some irrational ones like afraid to whistle after 9 pm or flushing toilets after midnight. I was also afraid of surgery and very much afraid of covid.
I kept myself safe and healthy during chemotherapy and made it out for a
month before turning around and staying home again, to protect myself from covid. A few weeks later, everyone else began experiencing what my life had been like. I was a pro, willing to share my experiences.
I’ve shared my cancer journey, I’ve been very open and up front about it all. It helps me process it and hopefully, helps others feel less alone. Processing and working through the emotional and physical trauma of a cancer diagnosis is extremely important. Stuffing it away doesn’t help anyone. Finding other survivors to connect with who have empathy helps. Anyone who negates or discounts your experience isn’t looking out for your interests. I share my thoughts because not enough do. I was terrified in the beginning. I knew nothing of what was to come and all of the emotions that would follow. There’s no right nor wrong here. Some chose to keep tight lipped about it but not me. I want to do something different and not just ride off into the glorious gulf sunsets as though nothing happened to me.
Cancer came knocking on my knockers and took me for one hell of a ride. My body responded in some new and crazy ways and I had no clue what to really expect. I wrote about it. I asked about it but medical professionals can only give you information based on research and not really first hand. I have found my tribe and realize, I am not alone. I do a lot of reading and asking, but, I’ve wanted to do more. I share what works and doesn’t work for me. Now, I get to do a little bit more.
I am going to be part of a study on how things impact taxane based chemotherapy induced neuropathy. I have it in my fingers and toes. My toes have it worse. I chose not to ice my hands nor feet during chemotherapy because I just wanted to make sure that life-saving poison I was to receive could travel every single little nook and cranny in my body. I figured I’d deal with the fallout later, if needed. Neuropathy is the fall out. It may get better, or not. I’m excited to be a part of something bigger than just me. I am excited to help a team of researchers learn more about how to help other cancer patients.
This move to Florida has impacted my life in so many positive ways. I have warmth and sunshine, farm fresh produce all year and I spend a fair amount of time outside. My new cancer center has programs I utilize virtually that have helped me with stress and pain management, as well as flexibility. I have a virtual meeting with a geneticist at the end of this month that I am also excited about. Maybe I’ll learn a bit more about me and maybe it will help them in their own research about HER2 breast cancer.
I won’t shut up about having had cancer. I am not going to pretend it never happened, it was too big to do that. My cancer didn’t exactly warrant a “moving on” or “get over it” kind of path since I deal with the fallout on a daily basis. I won’t stop sharing my life. That’s not who I am. I am hoping my experiences help another feel less alone or afraid. Maybe it helps a caregiver or educates family members. I write because it’s what I needed early on from the world and I am trying to fill the information hole that is out there.
Now, looks like I can see the light at the end of this quarantine tunnel coming. We passed the one-year mark of the global quarantine life. Twelve months. Twelve short but long months. You non chemo muggles are lightweights with only a year under your belts! I did this through 16 months of treatments only to have another year added. Hang in there folks, look to us cancer folks for a little encouragement if you need. Reach out if ya need me 💕