I’ve had many issues arise before my leave of absence from work and during that were beyond my control and have caused full blown panic attacks. I seem to need more and more time alone in pure silence to calm my thoughts and breathing. Then I thought about how I’m like that 90’s band name Raging Against the Machine. Only, I realized that I seem to be raging against myself.
Why?
Going
through cancer while single has literally thrown me off the ledge. Let the rage
fest begin.
I rage over
constantly fighting my body to just function properly.
- I
can no longer just get up and go anymore. It takes so long to get ready in the
mornings because of the chemo induced fibromyalgia and neuropathy. I never
thought I would have to deal with this level of chronic pain on a daily basis. There
is no real relief from it.
I rage that
my life continues to be difficult without breaks. The hits never seem to cease.
- Just
when I think the pieces on my path are finally aligning, I get hit with another
problem or infection that causes me to take three steps back instead of forward.
I rage over
the never-ending medical bills post-cancer.
- Why
aren’t there more financial resources for post treatment? I found so many
grants to help during my active treatment and one-year post but nothing now
that I’m three years post. These are lifelong struggles which require many
doctor appointments, tests and medications. The financial strain on a single
income is suffocating.
I rage over
being chronically single with zero strength to even ponder dating again.
- I
honestly don’t think I can ever date again. I have a zero-sex drive. I’m in
freaking menopause. I don’t even want to be touched because it hurts thanks to
the fibromyalgia. Plus, how I can date someone in the regular world ever again?
It was hard enough pre-cancer to find a good fit at the right time. I can’t
even have regular conversations because it always reverts to cancer.
I rage that
any PTO from work has never been used to take a vacation and have fun. Instead,
those days are used for doctor appointments, surgeries or sick days.
- How
ironic that I finally had to request a leave of absence from work because my
body literally gave up on me. I’ve been hit with an infection and chronic pain
every single month since October 2018. No wonder I basically keeled over and
couldn’t go on. Will my immune system ever be semi decent?
I rage over
our healthcare system and having to fight the billing departments from multiple
cancer centers and question or review charges.
- The
visceral stress from opening the mailbox and seeing a billing statement and/or
invoice almost daily wears on me. Plus, I already pay such a high deductible. I
don’t have the strength to work multiple jobs and gain multiple streams of
income by myself. It takes everything I have to go work for 8-10 hours a day.
I rage over
the hundreds of times I’ve had to advocate for myself to be heard with doctors.
- I’ve
been treated at multiple cancer centers and have seen multiple oncologists and
specialists until I was finally heard. I’m sick of so many saying, “That
doesn’t typically happen to cancer patients” or “I don’t think this pain is
from your treatments.” When are these providers going to learn that every BODY
is different? When will they realize they don’t fully understand the long-term
side effects that stem from chemo and radiation?
I rage over
those inside and outside cancer land who try to “fix” my chronic pain with
essential oils, supplements and more unsolicited advice.
- I’m
disgusted by those who give unsolicited advice and think they have the cure to
end my chronic pain or whatever else is going on. It’s like these people think
I haven’t already tried many of the things they claim “cured” them. Why can’t I
just talk about it? Why do I have to justify to non-medical people why I don’t
want their unsolicited advice?
I rage over
the family life I never knew I wanted and now can never have thanks to my
cancer treatments and being medically induced into menopause years ahead of
schedule.
- When
your choices are essentially taken away, the grief of wondering what could have
been is palpable. It’s so hurtful when people tell me to foster or adopt. It’s
like they completely ignore the fact that I am single!!! I can barely take care
of myself and my cat, let alone be there for a child alone. Show some
sensitivity! Hear me instead of trying to make me feel better.
I rage over
physically looking like a completely different woman with these chemo curls.
They aren’t natural to me.
- I
truly struggle over “this hair.” Sure, I know it looks cute like a baby
giraffe, but it is NOT my natural hair!!! I didn’t grow up with naturally curly
hair. Chemo did this, not nature. I didn’t ask for this. The PTSD I feel every
single time I look in the mirror tightens my chest and causes tears. My thick
eyebrows pre-cancer now must be filled in with a brow pencil. I don’t care that
no one else sees the flaws and damage. I am the one who must live with them.
I rage that
the treatments, surgeries and pressure to work full-time have visibly aged my
face and body by at least five years.
- It
took over two years for the dark circles to fade. I’m in a constant state of
fatigue. It shows in my face. My former baby face has been through an
unwelcomed war. I see the wear and tear it has caused.
I rage that
I no longer know why I’m fighting so hard to stay in this world with no
physical legacy.
- I
feel survivors’ guilt so deeply after hearing someone is diagnosed as stage IV
and have a husband and children. So, what about those single, childless people?
What do we have to live for if not family? Why should we keep fighting to exist
in pain when there will never be children or grandchildren? Who do we share our
memories with? What is our purpose?
Finally, I
rage that after all these years on earth, I’ve become what I always feared –
alone and ordinary.
- How
do I stop having survivors’ envy? I see so many survivors running marathons,
jumping out of planes, traveling and other really physical activities when I
can barely walk the two-mile trail in the park. Why didn’t my body heal and
become stronger? If anything, I feel I get physically weaker each day. How is
that surviving and thriving?
Though I
often feel alone with my rage, I know there must be others who suffer through
this in silence. I wish I had the right coping skills to help all of us get
through the daily insanity. That’s the hardest part. I want to take action but
don’t know how. My current therapist says I’m doing the right things to cope,
but I often don’t feel like I’m doing enough. Is this it?
I rage
because at the end of the day, I just want to matter and be remembered and LIVE
instead of just existing.
Until next
time,
Warrior Megsie