Imagine going into the shower to get your day started. Easy, right? Something I’ve taken for granted since, well, forever. Last week when I went to shower, my body surprised me yet again. Damn left arm said nope, ya ain’t gonna wash that hair. Surprise, frozen shoulder again, same arm. I’ve got another battle to beat with the gift that keeps on giving. Looks like another round of physical therapy to rid myself of the T-Rex arm.
Seems like every week or so, something new crops up. Two weeks ago, my gums rebelled. A new mouth sore formed (thanks Herceptin) on my frenum. I now know a new word and so do you. It’s that weird flap from the lip to the gum. Mine was raging and pulling on the gum. My oncologist prescribed Magic Mouthwash which makes the entire mouth numb. It’s freakishly funny but works. The area along the gum line was scraped and cleaned and having my frenum snipped was the recommendation. Lovely. My mouth had a mind of its own and has since calmed down. Ultimately, I need it snipped so it stops pulling on the gum.
Our bodies are normally fighting things on a daily basis. Fighting off germs, fighting off free radicals, fighting to stay awake or go to sleep, whatever. Things get done. Those of us who have undergone aggressive therapies for cancer have some added battles. Battles? Lol, how cute. Our bodies are fighting wars.
First is the war of this vessel betraying us. Some cells went rogue and normally our bodies can squash them and keep them from proliferating. Obviously mine didn’t do what it was supposed to and the cells went freaking batshit crazy and I wound up with cancer. Although my body let those cells multiply, I forgave it and learned to love it again.
Chemotherapy is lethal warfare on those cancer cells. Picture Pac Man if you will. That’s chemo. Those ghosts that run around the screen, cancer. You get the picture. Like PacMan, chemotherapy drugs go every where in the body on the hunt to seek and destroy any rapidly multiplying cell. Good guys or bad guys, chemo is like the honey badger, it doesn’t give a shit. Obviously, in this war, there’s collateral damage that comes through as side effects. Our skin becomes dry, we lose hair EVERYWHERE, mucus membranes take a hit and our intestines plead for mercy. The war is brutal and seems never ending until that last infusion. There is no purple heart, just a port we wear as a badge of honor for a while. While I’m on it, just wanted to tell you that there are so very many different chemotherapy drugs and combinations, none of them are nice. They suck but do their jobs.
These targeted therapies I am on now are another 17 – 18 infusions/battles in the war. Herceptin and Perjeta block different HER2 receptors on and in the cells. HER2 sends signals that tells cells to start to grow uncontrollably. The therapies run interference and doesn’t allow that to happen. It’s a kinder and more gentle battle in the breast cancer war but it’s not always easy. There’s fallout from it as well like runny noses, headaches, joint and bone pain and bowels plead for mercy. These can cause reduced heart function and congestive heart failure as well so cancer patients like this soldier are very closely watched.
The various surgeries are more battles that leave us with visible reminders of the card we’ve been dealt. I’ve got scars a plenty and it’s ok. I don’t really mind. Imperfection is my normal. I’ve had scars on both feet and legs from a scalding I endured when I was a toddler. Scars are cake for me. I don’t really notice them at all. Really.
I think, deep down, we all have had some major battles in our lives, whether or not we have visible scars doesn’t matter. We are all the same but behave differently and that’s the beauty of life. The next time you feel a snark coming on because someone does something different than you, stop. Figure out why you’re feeling that way, fix it and move on.
Even with all of the battles fought in this war and scars earned, I am not going to camouflage myself in fatigues. Nope, that ain’t me. I’ve heard all of the snarks over the years. “She’s too old to wear that, married women shouldn’t wear a two piece, she should act her age, looks like she forgot her pants again, her kids must be so embarrassed.” Guess what, IDGAF. That hasn’t changed. Those aren’t my issues.
We can fight battles in our minds. There’s the battle over our body image after double mastectomies and reconstructions. Luckily, I didn’t get hit with that one. There’s the fear of recurrence. Cancer can always come back. Cured, remission, No Evidence of Disease, same shit of a different name. Some of those sound more positive so I am going with the ones I like to hear. I’m no fool, I don’t have my head stuck in the sand, I know the statistics but I don’t want to wage a war of fear in my head. No one wins tht war. It is often said that we begin to die the moment we are born. Well, that just sucks. I’m going to live my life without the thought of dying. That’s too morbid and sucks the life out of anybody. Negativity deeply impacts the quality of our lives, I’m letting that all go. I’m chosing to live and embrace happiness, love and laughter.
Summer is in full swing here and my skins shows. Some days, more than others, pending my mood. I’m not hiding my pasty little self. I’ve endured a lot over the last nine months and I am proud of my perfectly imperfect body along with the angry frozen arm and smiling scars. This warrior has seen and conquered many battles this year and is not willing to act nor dress my age. Life is too short to not be who you are. Stop hiding. Stop trying to conform to what others think you should be. Most of all, stop making assumptions and judging others. What good does that do? What’s something you wish you were brave enough to do or wear? Think about it and then do it. It’s time we all love each other for who we are and start marching to the beat of our own drum…life is more fun and real that way, dontcha think?
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