I look at my disfigured body…
Time creates a distance but that is when time’s paradigm hasn’t been obliterated by trauma. This body I am forced to live in journeys with me in a new time paradigm. Years pass. Hair grows back. Statistics trend favorable. Yet my companion not-so-gently reminds me of its wretched grip. Stats or not, years won’t grow back what’s been amputated…literal or figurative.
I look at my disfigured body…
“At 4 years it came back.” “At 9 years it came back.” “At 17 years it came back.” My reality is such that my companion will never let me free from its cruel ‘what if.’ I must live with the very high possibility of recurrence. Or a new cancer because of the poison used to kill the kind I had. And to say, “don’t think that way!” reflects a privilege of a space and time that simply doesn’t match mine.
I look at my disfigured body…
I’m disgusted. I hate it in here. I wish to escape. To take it off and throw it away. My nerves are dead, my sensory experiences fucked, my sense of self shattered. There is no going back to what once was. Literally. Even though they told me I could. They lied. Or they didn’t actually know and shouldn’t have promised it. Not sure which is worse.
I look at my disfigured body…
I can honor what is resilience and I can acknowledge its toll. The price. The cost. The stakes. Too high. My gratitude and my grief entangled, enmeshed, entwined. Not one without the other in this devastating affair. How sad for gratitude to be forced to exist with grief. But also, how healing. And to not know one without the other is reflective of life’s unfair relentlessness.
October is a complicated month. It has a crap ton of stupid-hard anniversaries in it for me. It’s breast cancer awareness month which not only causes in-fighting among cancer patients but it creates some stark tensions to live in as a BC patient. It’s my favorite season that now has to be all jumbled up with shit memories.
I’ve come to decide that I will no longer apologize for being mindful of my memories and I will continue to honor the road I walk. I will not sheepishly struggle on an anniversary date and hope I haven’t worn out people’s (or my own, let’s be real here) compassion. Cancer is SO hard. Life is SO hard. Check on your friends. And give out endless compassion.
Thanks for reading 🖤🫶🏼
I am grateful you are here to share life with us. Your cancer journey reminds us it has come at a cost. For you and for us. It is easy for many to think once treatment finished, it was finished, and life goes on like before. Those who know, know that is not the case and we navigate life differently from the “before cancer”, to “treatment cancer”, to “surviving cancer”, to “the unknown”. October is a brutal reminder of how we all changed and wish it did not have to be this way. Especially for you, living your life so differently because of cancer. Praying your words and your experiences are a testament to help others, whether touched by cancer, or other life experiences gives them encouragement, strength, and hope for the journey they are on. Hope for healing and strength to face each day changed but stronger despite the hand dealt.