Cancer can be may things. It sneaks in, sets up shop somewhere in the body and starts to create problems. Once it’s discovered, chaos begins. Upon diagnosis, you hear the time frames and realize, cancer is a thief.
Be prepared to lose time. It’s a hurry up and wait game for tests and schedules to match for surgeries. Then hurry and wait to heal and begin chemo. At the end of it, you realize, well shit, I’ve lost a year of life just trying to stay ahead of side effects and healing from everything. That bitch stole my time. I counted the hours of chemotherapy. Forty hours of sitting in a chair getting toxic drugs into my port to save my life. A total of ten hours of forced naps (otherwise known as surgeries) so she would vacate my body. Bitch stole my time but I took my life back from her.
Cancer stole my kid’s birthdays. That’s right. Mamma bear got angry. I was diagnosed on my oldest son’s 13th birthday. I played it straight and didn’t let on that something was wrong. A month later, I was having my double mastectomy and was in the hospital for two days, with the second being my little guy’s 12th birthday. I was supposed to be discharged by noon but my heart wouldn’t behave and they kept me til 6. I wanted birthday cake with my family so bad. Cancer wanted her cake and eat it too.
Cancer wanted to steal Thanksgiving, too. See how savage cancer can be? I had a teeny tiny infection on my back which was no big deal but was told to get over to the Emergency Room at the hospital with the cancer center. They cleaned it and pumped me full of antibiotics and I should have gone home. My heart again would not behave. I was kept overnight, while I kept telling them that the Red Devil messes with the heart and I was really fine. Nope. I was scheduled for a cardiology consult the next morning and had to wear a heart monitor until then. My oncologist came in with the cardiologist and explained everything and I was sprung after several tests proved I was indeed fine. I guess cancer wanted the damn turkey too!
Cancer stole my long crazy red hair. Ok, the Red Devil ate my hair. I have actually said that as I am at a loss for words when I am asked about my micro pixie. My hair doesn’t look this way on purpose…for now.
Cancer stole my energy. Like clockwork, 72 hours after chemotherapy, I would be couch bound for an afternoon. No energy, no appetite, just wanted sleep and quiet. I ran through chemo, I hired a trainer and seriously worked out, no matter how I felt. I wasn’t going to allow her to steal a part of who I am. Now, months after ending chemotherapy, I run. I have my energy back. Cancer couldn’t keep that.
Cancer steals peace of mind. Upon diagnosis, all sorts of crazy scary things popped into my mind. When I was thrown into that world, I didn’t understand a thing and it’s an awful feeling. Coupled with google, I had myself dead already. I got through that. Now, with every ache and twitch, immediately my head goes to “oh shit, mets?” Logically, I know I was early stage HER2+. My odds look good, especially if I keep doing what I need to survive. Still, cancer F%$#s so much with your head that it’s hard to keep facts and figures straight when there’s always the underlying fear. I long for the day where cancer is not on my mind at all, just for one day. That would be nice. Cancer stole my peace of mind and I sometimes let her take it back for a few moments before I kung fu kick her and snatch it back…or one of my doctors talk some sense into me.
One year ago, I was diagnosed with stage 2a grade 3, HER2+ ER/PR-, ki-67 12% (lazy ass!) breast cancer. I got the call at 11:41am. The little bitch nugget, who I promptly named Felicia, set up shop and wanted to take from me. And in the beginning she did. That’s normal. I was determined to get her out, along with any other tissue that could go rogue.
I bought myself a little watch at the end of chemotherapy, right before my reconstruction surgery. I gave myself the gift of time. It’s mine again and I am in control now. It has a bright pink band on it. Breast cancer isn’t pretty but pink is and I am going to rock that pink for the rest of my life now as it makes me smile and reminds me that I am strong. I did it, I got through it. Cancer didn’t steal who I am.
Cancer is a thief. Mine was caught before she could do too much. Her ass is in jail, more like a frozen box of some sort in a lab. I picture her gross and grey, frowning angrily at her confines. Cancer is pathological as it has no remorse. Now, a year and a day later, I’m out here, in the sunshine, full of life and embracing everything pink…
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