Cancer
Messed
Me
Up
Bad.

Cancer
Messed
Me
Up
Good.

I feel different about everything. I’m backwards and inside out, I’m upside down and I’m missing body parts. I have it in my head that cancer is a win/win – I die, I win. I survive, I win. I have an outside that looks like it “should” but it’s so far from normal. My once midsection now makes my top section by way of a literal body transplant. My brain now functions at a chemo-capacity. Showering is exhausting. My priorities are so messed up that they are actually now where they should have been before. My love of the quiet, of the deep process, of the metaphorical meaning, of the s l o w d o w n is suuuuuuper counter-cultural. My lens is cancer-colored. It’s not a chapter in the part of the story that simply ended. It’s just a new story altogether. I’ve been hairless and tastebud-less and I can never get on a plane again without an arm compression sleeve. I can’t love things the same that I have loved before but I love things new that I didn’t know I loved. Surviving cancer is really stupid-hard. The most sensitive part of my body is now dead but I now know and feel my body, heart and mind more intensely than I ever have before. Oh, and in the deepest layers of tissue, under the deadness on top, I feel the most intense itching ever. The hell that is cancer brought me as close to heaven on earth, so close as the blink of an eye. I’ve loved the nurse but hated what they were doing and I’ve simultaneously looked forward to and dreaded seeing them. My body has 5% estrogen in it (and that is a generous rounding-up) and it still.effing.wreaks.havoc. My eyes and my sinuses will never be the same and my body carries with it, in every step and in every move, cancer. I know the inside of the word ‘gratitude’ like never before because I know the inside of the word ‘cancer.’ And I’m grateful for that.

Cancer

Messed

Me

Up.

*Post 952

What Strangeness :: 11/11/17 :: Post 75

When I look back on this chapter, what will I want to remember from this day…. That’s usually where I start when I sit down to write.

Tonight….gosh. I don’t know what to write. I did very little today… I laid in bed for a long time this morning, I got up and made myself breakfast (Chris is hunting this weekend so I had to feed myself…it’s a hard job….turns out I’m so glad Chris does it 98% of the time), laid back in bed, did some word searches, hung out with my momma and had some lunch, did some more word searches, sat in my chair and let the quiet surround me, ate dinner, now I’m back in my chair wondering what to write. What was today?

Today was rest. Today was quiet. Today was energy preserving instead of energy expending.

I felt slightly better today than I did yesterday and I’m seeing small improvements each day. I did still struggle with residual nausea and fatigue throughout the day, but I’ll take the slight improvements as a win for the day and hope for tomorrow that it will follow suit.

As I sit here in the quiet reflection of the day, noting how I’ve felt physically, I’m also noting that emotionally, I am kind of a mess.

I look in the mirror and see my short little buzzed hair thinning and I get really sad. Pretty soon I won’t look “in style,” I’ll just look sick (bald isn’t a style for women)… I’ll have to start being creative with what to do with my head and that feels hard because I don’t love how hats are fitting my head without hair, my wigs are so uncomfortable, scarves make me look like I’m on my deathbed, and the hair I do have is becoming too patchy to really look good anymore.

I’ve even lost my widow’s peak…

My skin hurts. Specifically, the palms of my hands. It’s so bizarre… they feel hot and on fire, they hurt to the touch, I can’t open jars or medicine bottles or my water cup… I’m becoming more and more dependent on others to help – even with the smallest of things.

It’s more than just dryness, it’s firey pain…and it’s devastating how weak I feel…

My heart is heavy with questions. Is pain the only way to a deeper faith? Why me? Why this? How weak am I to be asking for an easier battle? Is this spiritual warfare? Do I have an immature faith…or a mature faith? Does it matter? If all that matters is me believing Jesus died for me and through Him I have eternal life, why must I endure such pain to enrich my faith? Is it about enriching faith or is it simply because we live in a fallen world and *you-know-what* happens? Do I need to look at this as an opportunity? For what? I can’t imagine battling for no reason so then what is the reason for the battle? Am I even asking the right questions? Will I ever get answers? Should I even be asking questions or is it just about the experience in and of itself?

What a weird season. What strange things to experience. What odd memories to be recording. What a hard chapter to be writing…

Repeat :: 11/11/18 :: Post 424

Be all here.

Live changed.

See wide but live short.

It won’t always be like this.

I’ll get the answers when I need the answers.

Gratitude can coexist with suffering.

Things on repeat in my head…..

Gratitude Month Day 11 :: 11/11/19 :: Post 787

Today, a couple of years ago, was physically, slightly improved. I was able to be up and about, fending for myself despite the exhaustion in that and I was able to eat and keep it down that day. I was glad to experience a bit of a lighter day. On the emotional side of things, though, I was a mess…asking myself big questions and asking God even bigger ones. And then I even asked if asking questions was actually an appropriate response. I think, in looking back over the last two years, I certainly can ask the questions but I need to remember that I don’t need an answer. Instead I can trust that an answer is coming at a most perfectly synced time to the best time to learn what the answer has to offer.

A year ago I was repeating over and over again, my learned mantras. “Be.” “Live short.” “Live changed.” “Everything is temporary.” “I’ll get the answers when I need the answers.” “Gratitude can coexist with suffering.” …Hmmm, very interesting that what was being learned in 2018 is directly tied to what questions were coming in 2017.

Today…I played volleyball. Like 10% of me at full strength playing about 10% of the full-ness of the game. Like only passing to the setter without having to move a ton. But I got out on the court. I felt the joy of fond memories playing this fun sport. And I was passing almost perfect so I didn’t lose much. That’s what surprised me the most. I’m at the weakest I’ve ever been and I haven’t had to execute any volleyball technique in literal years…at least 5…and yet, I still have that die-hard athlete who worked hard every second she stepped on the court who relentlessly pursued excellence, inside. I connected with her tonight and it felt really special. It brings tears to my eyes as I sit here thinking about it. It may have been a mere 10, maybe even 5% of me at my best, but it’s something.

Gratitude Month Day 11 – I’m so grateful I connected with a part of me from before cancer. Cancer has changed me and I am vastly, almost totally, different than the person I was. Most of it, I like. Some of it, I miss. And there are many other parts that needed to go, for which I’m grateful. But today, it was a sweet moment to get to connect with one of those parts that I miss terribly. I may feel every bit of it when I stand up to get ready for bed, but to connect was worth it.