The last week of August is such an emotionally wretched wrecking week.
Biopsy, diagnosis, breast MRI, meeting surgeons… there were so many appointments in such a short span of days. The storm whipping around me, I didn’t know which end was up or which way was what… So many people pulling and tugging on my body. So many people seeing my nakedness and sickness.
It’s so interesting reflecting back this afternoon. At the time, it was dreadfully hard to have to keep taking off my clothes, to have people touching me and assessing me and making plans to remove body parts. It was gut punch after gut punch, the vulnerability – heart-ripping and soul-searing. But there was a protectiveness around me at that time…a protectiveness of, “I have cancer, we must get rid of the cancer so therefore do what it takes.” That sentiment protected me to a degree, I felt vulnerable FOR SURE and it felt humiliating NO DOUBT, but I was otherwise focused on the very urgent matter at hand by any means necessary.
I don’t regret that. I am grateful I’m HERE to look BACK to then. But here, there is a weight that wasn’t there then. Then – by any means necessary. Then – the crisis of the moment superseded the reality of the long term. Then – the desperation to live overshadowed the journey to get there. And I firmly believe that is how it is supposed to be (or no one would choose it!). But now – by any means necessary is a lifetime of brutal loss. Now – the long term is a long time. Now – the journey doesn’t have an end like I once thought it would. Now – I’m no longer protected by the urgency of then. I think that is what makes survivorship so complex…
The monstrosity of then held with the monstrosity of now – related, similar, but also very different.
The rear view having desperate sorrow and the view of the future obliterated – that’s what happens when you touch death.
The deep gratitude held with the deep pain – a strange tension to live in minute after minute after minute.
The expanse of traumatizing vulnerability that I have experienced – with the protection of crisis gone, it sinks in deep now, its weight…h e a v y.
(I didn’t post the last few days. It’s just been too much. To catch up on the past years, read on below)
August 27, 28 and 29 of 2018:
Deja vu (ish)
I don’t have a whole lot to say tonight. I’m tired and I’m feeling low.
It occurred to me, while we were all sitting around the table at dinner time and talking about our upcoming move, that it was on this night last year that we told the girls I had cancer. It was slightly deja vu-ish because tonight’s conversation, much like last year’s, was “family meeting” like…
I think that is what sent me into a bit of a funk. That was such a hard night. Seeing their reactions. Not knowing what was really going on inside of their heads and hearts. Unsure of how this news would play out in their lives. Unsure of anything ahead. Living in my own unknown while trying to put on a brave face.
We’ve made it quite a long ways from that night… for that, I am grateful. Even though much lies ahead.
Deja vu Round Two
More interesting deja vu today……
I had my post op appointment at Dr. Williams’ office. He is quite pleased with where things are. Said definitely two more revisions will be needed with a probable third final one in early 2019 after everything has settled down. Ugh. At least I have a vision of where he is going. ….October…….December…….February…..2019………………..
Then I had a follow up appointment with Dr. Moore. It’s been almost a year since she literally cut off my breasts. I’m grateful for her, her care of me, her expertise. Her willingness to do the hard thing so that I can live. Her job is hard….. She, too, was pleased with where I’m at. How far I’ve come through the hell I’ve endured. How close I am to treatment’s end. Interesting, though…She acknowledged that I look good but asked if I was going through a divorce in the midst of all of this… [I had my wedding ring on a necklace because it currently doesn’t fit on my finger]. I wonder if she sees that a lot for that to be her very first assumption. Sad. Gratefully, that could not be more opposite of my reality and she was relieved to hear that Chris and I are doing well.
After that I went to Hana’s to donate my no-longer-needed wigs (I did keep my favorite purple one, though). I haven’t been there since October 24th. That was strange. I walked in, prepared to give back the wigs that I remember so vividly trying on for the first time….remembering the smells…seeing Hana…talking to her receptionist (who remembered that it’s been almost a year)…sitting in the chair and looking in the mirror where my head was shaved…taking in the unique experience of being in a wig studio because I was going to be bald. BALD………
In the same chair, that I sat in almost a year ago, was a beautiful woman with sad eyes trying on her new wig. She had two friends with her. It was devastating that she was sitting there and yet she smiled. It was a perfect picture of this awful hell: being taken care of by a sweet woman who also has a hard job, not alone and with friends by her side, acknowledging the emotions of the moment, yet finding gratitude.
Then I walked out of the door, leaving my wigs behind, embracing my forever transformation. Today, there was more deja vu because this time last year, I went to these three same places all in the same day and saw all of the same people. Except then it was discussions of bilateral mastectomy, tissue expanders, chemo, baldness, wigs…..
Tonight I sit here reflective of that day a year ago. Devastation. Gratitude. And e.v.e.r.y.t.h.i.n.g. in between.
Blah.
Uncertain of how I feel tonight…..Blah is the only word that comes to mind. And I’m feeling beat up by life.
August 27, 28 and 29 of 2019:
Post Op #536 (or so it seems)
I had a post op today. And I recognized after the appointment just how much anxiety I unknowingly hold for them. Getting there on time with the dreadful traffic that is c-470 construction…managing more doctors appointments with a full time job…getting there and knowing that my naked body will have to be critically evaluated…wondering if the doc will be pleased or frustrated or distracted…having to get in and out of my full body compression suit…looking at my own naked body with a critical eye in a full length mirror, noticing the massive bruising and scars and trauma…
And then switching gears and going to work to be participatory and productive.
I was driving to practice tonight and tears welled up in my eyes. There was no specific reason for the emotional response…I wasn’t thinking about anything in particular, I wasn’t listening to a sad song, I just started crying. And that, in and of itself, says much.
Funky
I am all sorts of funky tonight. There is so much on my heart. So much in my head. Life transitions. Cancer surviving. Relationships in flux. Change. Uncertainty. Hope. Exhaustion…pure and utter exhaustion.
Dearest Colleagues
Today was my first last day of work. I’ve never experienced a ‘last day’ before… It is so bittersweet. Alternatives has been such an integral part of my life over the last 9 years…I’ve been so incredibly passionate about the work of Alternatives for almost a decade. It was because of Alternatives that I had the motivation to complete my degrees and pursue counseling. And it was because of Alternatives that I have encountered so many opportunities for professional and personal development. And today, I closed that chapter.
Cancer teaches me so much and it was time I created change so that i could live changed. I am so grateful that i am being given the gift of honoring my cancer story by starting a new thing while getting to take with me everything I gained from these last 9 years.
Because Alternatives has been such a central element to my life and my identity, it stands to reason that Alternatives is very much a part of my cancer story and therefore, gets to be recognized in my daily journaling. I spent some time writing a farewell email today to some of the most important people in my life:
Dearest colleagues,
Alternatives is a beautiful place filled with beautiful people. I have given the best of myself to the mission and advancement of an organization that is, no doubt, the heart of Jesus. But I take with me, the very best of Alternatives into my next everyday. I have grown here, I have failed here, I have given grace here, I have received it. I have loved and I have hurt. I have seen the most incredible redemption through the most incredible stories – both client and colleague. I have seen the Lord’s infinite goodness through celebration and through pain…again – both client and colleague. I am deeply grateful for God’s immeasurable gift of the relationships that have colored my 9 years here, relationships that are VITAL to my existence, relationships that have a deep significance to my identity – Becky, 3 Jessica’s, Kristina, MaryEllen, Andrea, Ashley, Meredith, Charise, Nichole, Kris, Kim, Debra, Whitney, Brie, Kristi, Christy, Calli, Anna, Chandler, 2 Kristin’s, Cynthia, April, Elisabeth, Maureen, Heather, Lauren, Denise, Sarah, Tami, Diane, Erin, Katie, Aaron, Kati, Janice, Marcy, AlmaAlicia, Tara, Joyce, Kathryn, Jordan, Ryan, Clara, Ayinde, Carol, Claudette, Holly, Jamie, Jesse, Meagyn, Kendra, Laura, Leticia, Linda, Lori, Luba, Madison, Ofelia, Rachel, Rob, Tia, Penny and Kathy…and every intern…and every volunteer…and every trainee…and every board member. And E.V.E.R.Y. S.I.N.G.L.E. O.N.E. is a cherished gift.
It’s interesting to me, seeing that list of incredible people as I wrote them out. What’s interesting to me is that you can look at it two different ways. 1. Transparently, I have considered this list as somewhat of a negative thing – ‘wow, that is a lot of turn-over and transition in 9 years’, but as I sit here with a different filter, a filter of turning the last page of this chapter at the end of today, a filter that I am experiencing for the first time in my life, I very much see it a different way now: 2. Overflowing blessing to have gotten the opportunity to know, work with, learn with and LOVE each one. E a c h o n e. And the most astoundingly special part is that this list is in addition to every single student I got to teach through A Promising Future and every single client I have gotten the honor to sit with through Alternatives.
I have much to be grateful for. I have been forever changed because of this place. And not only has each encounter with each individual woven a beautiful tapestry that I will hold dearly, Alternatives has been a core thread in my most significantly life-transforming cancer story, as well. A thread that, undoubtedly, will remain a forever one.
Thank you, Alternatives and thank You, Jesus, for what I get to take with me. With deepest gratitude,
Amber
(No posts for August 27, 28 or 29 of 2020)