The morning started out so well. I was up early, doing some
writing and had my outfit for mass ironed. As I began my morning ritual of
washing my face, taking a shower and washing my hair, I had to first brush out
my hair. These tight curly coils drive me nuts!
After my lovely brushed out Afro, I get in the shower to
wash and deep condition it. I had closed my eyes for a moment and when I opened
them, I uttered a silent scream. I looked down at my hands and the tub and saw
clumps of curls had fallen out. It wasn’t just little hairs. It was CLUMPS. It
was so much that I got nauseous and had a panic attack. I just knew that when I
got out of the shower that I would be bald.
Damn that PTSD that doctors never believe I possess.
The last time that much hair had fallen out was on 10/25/15,
when ALL of my hair fell out in the shower. I can’t ever forget that horrific
and beyond traumatic moment. Even though I had shaved my head, it was still so
many tiny hairs that all fell out. I had walked into the shower with hair and
came out as bald as a newborn.
I panicked thinking the same thing would happen this
morning. I kept my eyes closed as I wrapped a towel around my head. I took a
deep breath as I removed the towel. I still have a headful of hair and still
I thought the shaking and flashbacks would stop by now. Here
it is evening time and the memory is still as clear and fresh as it was this
morning and almost four years ago.
So why did so much fall out this morning? Where did these
clumps come from?
Is this related to the medically induced menopause?
Is it related to the higher dose of Cymbalta?
Is the constant financial stress of increasing medical bills
and cost of living?
Is it from all the physical pain of this nerve in my left
back and buttocks?
Is it the constant physical full body pain from the Fibromyalgia?
Is it from the sleep deprivation last week as I tried to
wean myself off the Ativan with zero success?
Is it the stress of knowing I need one more surgery to
remove the fat necrosis in my left lumpectomy area?
Is it the grief of being infertile and single?
Is it the grief of the soon-to-be anniversary of my nana’s
Is it the grief of being in a constant state of fatigue that
I can’t pursue my true passions more intensely?
I guess you could say I have a lot on my plate. Then again,
everything in my world is always compounded with so much all at once. I wish I
could have even just a week where everything was going right. Massages used to
be my thing. What do I do now that I can’t stand being touched?
All of these thoughts lead back to breast cancer. My life on
the cancer train continues to move off track and so painful. I hope a smooth
path is in the horizon because this constant state of stress, pain, grief,
fatigue and anger is wearing me out.
I daresay 2018 brought a lot of pain, loss, frustration, negativity, hopelessness, loneliness and so much more. If I focused solely on that as I reflect about last year, I would just curl into a ball and shrivel away. So, instead of focusing on disappointments and what I didn’t accomplish, I decided to reflect on what I actually DID accomplish in 2018. This idea stems from the free class I took with Lacuna Loft called It’s a Wonderful Life: Taking Care During The Holidays!
writing: I truly AM
My blog turned a year old. I am so proud of what I have written. When I reviewed the stats, I could not believe
how many people not only read my blog, but also follow it. I am floored by how
many countries I have reached!
This is truly a proud moment for me. My blog was planted in pain
but grew in love, advocacy and compassion. The comments I received last year
whether directly on my blog page or through social media and private messages
has let me know that not only have I continued to build my voice, I have helped
others discover their own.
Published on the following websites and publications:
Rethink Breast Cancer
Humor Beats Cancer
Chronic Love Club
connection:Francesca from Elon
A surprise connection was made through Stupid Cancer on Facebook
with the pre-med student Francesca. She reached out to me about a study she was
doing on young adults and the fertility conversations with oncology providers.
The timing was perfect because I was in full out grief over not
being able to have children due to my cancer treatments. I had been processing the
lack of compassion by my oncology team during active treatment, and then how
compassionate my oncology team (2nd opinion) was during my post-treatment.
I underestimated the mental and emotional toll having a
hysterectomy/oophorectomy while single would have on me. Then, enter the
fabulous Francesca from Elon University with her study. Many of you will
remember me posting it in the cancer support groups I belong to because I felt
it was so important that our voices be heard.
I never dreamed what would come next…
Francesca asked if I wanted to be co-author of two abstracts that
were to be submitted to two major medical conferences. There was no hesitation
in saying, “YES!” I helped with editing and formatting the questions in a way
that would speak to the young adult cancer community.
American Psychosocial Oncology Society
Our abstract titled, “You don’t really have a say in anything…like you don’t have any options”: AYA Cancer Survivors’ Perspectives on Fertility Preservation Conversations with Healthcare Providers” was accepted, and we will give a podium presentation at the 16th Annual APOS Conference in Atlanta, GA on February 28 – March 2, 2019.
Society for Adolescent Health
Our abstract titled, “The struggles of fertility are more difficult than
the struggles of cancer”: Adolescent and Young Adult Cancer Survivors’
Perspectives on Fertility Preservation was accepted for a Poster Symposia II: Sexual and
Reproductive Health oral presentation at the 2019 Annual
Meeting of the Society for Adolescent Health and Medicine Washington, DC on
March 7, 2019.
Plus, SAHM will publish our
abstract in the supplement to the February 2019 issue of the Journal of
and I will finally meet in-person next month after talking on the phone,
emailing and texting. She is an amazing and ambitious young woman with so much
compassion and determination. Super excited!!!
My job:I’m working!
It has been a rocky road on the career front. Instead of
focusing on the stress, I am going to reflect on the fact my brain is
professionally razor sharp again. When I had to take part of 2017 and early
part of 2018 off to just heal, it was a blow to my ego and finances.
Chemo brain is no joke.
Fatigue is no joke.
I made the tough decision to completely leave the TV and
radio industry because my stress level in this “new un-normal” couldn’t handle
that kind of fast pace anymore. I took a lot of temp jobs in different
industries to see where my skills and new mindset could fit.
In the end, I am a marketing project manager in the staffing
industry. There have been a lot of ups and downs at this job, but for the first
time ever, I spoke up about the managerial issues. I never would’ve had courage
to do that pre-cancer. Of course, I was professional about it, but also did not
let up until real change was made.
I ended 2018 by receiving a Spirit Award nomination. People
in the company (80+ markets) nominate those who embody spirit, confidence and
enthusiasm. I couldn’t believe my eyes when I received the nomination in the
mail during the holidays. I haven’t even been there a year, so it’s nice to
know I’m making an impact.
My joy:My cup runneth over
Though I’m often raw and dark in my posts, I’m super bubbly and a tad “extra” in-person. I love wearing fun hair accessories. I’m dramatic. I love to laugh. I love my cat Nathan (Natey) Edgar Chase.
I rekindled old friendships and sparked new ones.
I was able to visit my college after 19 years in October. I have ah-mazing memories from my four years at The College of Saint Rose in Albany, NY. Yep, a GA girl went to college in one of the coldest places on earth. LOL It was like no time had passed. I saw and reconnected with old friends, old haunts and my favorite professor, too!
Most of all, I have found love and acceptance with my tribe
of friends, near and far.
All of this to say, there were beautiful moments in 2018. I’m still alive and pushing through the pain of this “new un-normal.” I have a feeling 2019 is gearing up to be pretty darn special and exciting.
Thanks so much for continuing to ride this cancer train with me. Cheers to 2019!
I confess the holidays and life, in general, seem more difficult this year. I’ve been pondering why. That’s when I realized my grief is deeper.
As the countdown for 2019 begins, I think of the loss of fellow warriors this year. This was the first year where some I’d met online and in-person from various support groups passed away from metastatic cancer. I had felt such a connection with these women. I had watched the progression of their metastatic cancer.
There was one survivor in particular whose death continues to hit me hard. Her name was Christy.
She was feisty.
She was graceful.
She was gentle.
She never lost her sense of humor.
She never lost her essence.
She never lost her compassion.
More importantly, as the end was near, she gently passed away on
her own terms surrounded by her loved ones. I have never had a bird’s eye view
of the progression from life to death in such a dignified way.
What struck me the most is I’m not immune to this happening to me. Metastatic cancer can happen to anyone.
While I have loving friends both near and far, I still have a difficult time relating to anyone outside of the cancer world. I can’t just“get over it” because more long-term side-effects keep presenting themselves in painful ways. I’m crushed that my life post-cancer doesn’t feel like much physical healing has occurred.
Then I look outside of my physical and emotional pain and see the beauty and amazement of new opportunities that have come my way that never would’ve happened if I had not gone through cancer. Finding my writing voice again has been the greatest and most unexpected gift.
I had stopped writing for six years before I got cancer. My voice was gone. Then getting breast cancer, though utterly traumatic, has given me purpose and a voice again. I have such a passion to remain an advocate through writing and speaking.
As the New Year approaches, I do feel more hopeful than I did last year. I don’t know how much time I have left on this earth, as none of us do. After my friend Christy’s death, I am determined to seek more joy and continue to give be a voice for those who haven’t found theirs yet or don’t know how to express it.
I still have days of utter sadness, grief, anger, and frustration. Yet, I also have days of beauty, joy, laughter, love, acceptance, and new opportunities. I hope to find that delicate balance one day.
This quote continues to bring comfort as I enter 2019…
“To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people exist, that is all.”― Oscar Wilde
My blog actually turned a year old on the 1st. I’ve taken time to reread every single post I’ve written. What I have discovered is the rawness, anger, and heaviness continues to weigh on me. On the flip side, I’ve felt more love, creativity, passion, excitement, and acceptance than I ever thought possible.
Going through cancer, while utterly traumatic and painful, has given me a voice I never knew existed. Where does my resilience come from? I’ve been knocked down by so many events in my life, yet I keep standing back up. Sometimes I stumble and other times it takes longer to get back up, but I always do.
Since my last post, I’ve been diagnosed with Fibromyalgia and osteoarthritis. Am I 42 or 142? At least now I know why my body pain has been so debilitating. I can finally move without crying. I can breathe without wincing.
I haven’t fully processed either diagnosis or what that means for my future and quality of life. It’s a little too much for me to handle at this time.
More than anything, I’m filled with gratitude for the support from ALL of the warriors and friends who read my blog and continue to follow my rocky cancer path thus far. It means the world to know my voice matters and is being heard.
I thank those who don’t try and diagnose me, too. Though my written thoughts can be dark at times, you only get to see one side of me. I still exude a lot of humor and positive light. I have to recharge my batteries more frequently than I used to, but that’s okay.
This quote sums it up best…
“To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people exist, that is all.”― Oscar Wilde
I’ve thought a lot about “my story,” and who will tell it. It’s a tough pill to swallow knowing my family history literally ends with me.
It’s overwhelming to think about. Friends tell me I can still be a mother by either adopting or marrying someone with children. There are many issues with these two scenarios, so I’ve highlighted the top three:
I’m single and not about to adopt a child when I can barely provide for myself and mounting health needs/issues.
The thought of dating is off the table for at least another year or so due to chronic pain, fatigue, and zero sex drive.
I don’t even know if I will still be alive in another year or what other illnesses will befall me as long-term side effects keep popping up.
The point is I will NEVER have a human legacy who inherits my long lashes, quirky personality or bubbly laugh.
I was looking at old family pictures this morning. Though my mother and I physically do not look-alike, I found two pictures of when we were little, and we have identical facial expressions and seated position. It makes me laugh, yet weep.
Life can be very hard; for some more than others. I’ve often questioned why I have to carry so much weight on my heart and soul. I don’t want to be Hercules or Wonder Woman.
I don’t know where my resilience stems from. There have been more dark moments that I care to fully acknowledge in my life thus far, and also many beautiful, delightful and charming moments.
This is not about being clinically depressed. This is about the ups and downs of grief. This is about MY reality. I’m still grieving over what could have been, what my reality is and how difficult thinking of the future and making plans can be at times.
There are moments when I think, “What’s the point?” of telling my story. Who really cares?
Breast cancer survivor
A therapist told me to keep posting pictures on social media from my scrapbooks and photo albums that I have so lovingly put together over the years that fully capture the really magical, humorous and exciting moments since childhood. I was doing just that to make my digital legacy mean something but stopped as life post-cancer became too much again.
The only constant in my life is the essence of me remains the same. It’s solid. It’s my core.
Cancer couldn’t kill it.
Depression can’t kill it.
Grief can’t kill it.
Pain and fatigue can’t kill it.
There always seems to be a storm brewing, edging its way to the forefront of my mind. I could really use a season of calmness in my body, heart, and mind.
I no longer have moments where I can ‘forget’ I had breast cancer. I’ve never bounced back after all my treatments and many surgeries. My body continues to deteriorate instead of growing stronger. The physical pain continues to increase instead of decrease. The skin issues on my face, neck and chest continue to flare up.
This can’t be my permanent quality of life, can it?
I’m plagued by Survivor’s Guilt but also plagued by Survivor’s Envy. How is that possible?
I see others who I met during the start of my cancer path and see how well they bounced back afterward. I see those starting families, getting better jobs or continuing to kick ass at their current job, dating, getting engaged and married, working out and just looking fabulous.
Am I seeing only what they want others to see? Are they really struggling privately? Is it a show for the masses because social media never shows the whole story?
Then I get mad at myself because I know that other warriors are suffering in many ways post treatment or experiencing recurrence and metastasis, but don’t reveal it on social media.
My reality is I no longer have the strength to mask the physical and emotional pain. My quality of life plain sucks. This isn’t a pity party. I’ve tried to push through the physical pain. I get told to just exercise and will feel better. Well, all that movement is actually causing more inflammation and severe pain. My weight is going back up because the pain has become excruciating to the point of almost debilitating most days. It makes exercising and just moving incredibly hard and painful.
I just want to feel better.
I want to have energy.
I want to not feel envious of those survivors who are truly enjoying life. They’ve been through hell and back, too.
For me, my hell continues. The more intense the pain, the harder it is to manage other life stresses. It has increased my anxiety level to the point where I’m waking up nauseous each morning. My sleep is off cycle again.
I underestimated the effects of being medically induced into menopause, becoming officially barren and zero sex drive. How can I even think about dating when I feel and look like crap?
I’m having a tough time igniting my spark and passion. I’m so worn out from working and dealing with the office nonsense that I can barely write or do what I need to do to press forward.
I feel guilty for being envious of other survivors. I feel like October or PINKtober brings out the Grinch in me.
I want to celebrate my life, but is this really a life when I’m single and can’t date? When the pain is so debilitating that I cry out in agony and only my loving cat Nathan can hear me? When I’m so fatigued that I can barely do the laundry, vacuum and dust or make dinner?
For me, life post cancer has its many ups and downs. It seems these days are more down because the constant pain and fatigue is tearing down my defenses.
I fought so hard to try and not die from this. It’s not all smiles, pink tutus and walks. It’s shocking, stressful, utterly painful and exhausting to pretend I’m okay because I look healthy.
I know it has been a hot minute since I’ve posted. October is turning out to be both an amazing yet frustrating month. I just wanted to send a quick note to say I am still here with a lot to say but just physically dragging and in excrutiating pain.
In the weeks leading up to my scans, I could barely sleep and was emotionally eating. My job situation continues to be a huge source of my stress as well. I have been irritable and super on edge.
The good news is my scans came back NED (no evidence of disease) last Monday, 10/8/18. Whew! Now I can breathe for another six months until my next appointment which will include an MRI. The stress of being so late to get my follow-up scans thanks to lack of insurance, a job, then getting a job but limited insurance, to finally being eligible for the “good” insurance really weighed on me.
I have much news to share and miss writing. Know you will be hearing from me later this week, possibly a new post even tonight.
I appreciate all of the continuous love and support from each of you. I’m still here…