Surviving Cancer

My life is in cancer mode. I see everyone else living their lives and moving forward in time, and then here I am, in constant cancer mode. I don’t let it consume my daily thoughts, but it is always there. There is no escaping it.

I get, what seems like, a dozen calls a week from the clinic. Nurses following up, nurse navigator follow up, appointment scheduling, and as you all know, I try to have life, so I’m not always able to answer my phone, so add all those return calls in there too. You also probably know that when you return a call to the clinic, you never, and I mean NEVER, get to talk to who you are returning a call to, so they then need to take a message and call you back. It is seriously, never ending.

On top of the phone calls, there is a more physical aspect of cancer that never leaves me. I have fake boobs. They are foreign. They aren’t mine, and I feel that, every single moment of every single day. Now, I’m only 6 weeks out from my mastectomy, so I know there is a still a period of time for healing, and settling in, but they will never be the same.

I have scars, upon scars. I started out with one scar, from my c-sections, and now, it’s like they have been multiplying. I have a 4-6 inch scar underneath each breast. I have two pencil eraser sized scars under each armpit from where my drains were. I have a scar on my upper, right chest where my port is placed. I’ve never been super into my appearance. I would do the bare minimum to look “decent” and call it good. I don’t mind the appearance of the scars, because realistically the only person who sees them is me and my husband. What bothers me about the scars, is that they provide a constant reminder of the fact that I have cancer, and what that cancer has taken from me.

Cancer has taken my job, my freedom, my health, and at times, it takes over my life. I told my husband the other day that I feel like a 75 year old woman. Now, no offense to 75 year old women, but I feel aged beyond my years. “Old people” get cancer. “Old people” are tired and achy all the time. Having kids adds to this feeling of old age. I don’t go out. I don’t socialize. I don’t have fun. I have my best friend here with me, my husband, but us going out is a rare occasion. “Going out” to me, consists of running to a variety of stores in the Sioux Falls area and shopping for my children…by myself. Talk about feeling isolated.

Cancer has made me feel even more isolated than I already was. Living in a new city, no job, not many friends, no family to hang out with. I already did practically nothing for myself, so adding cancer just doubled my isolation. Can you do that? Be doubly isolated?

I don’t write this to receive pity from anyone. This is what my life is right now, and I’m learning to accept it. I’m writing this because it’s the truth, and if all else fails, write the truth.

Today, I had my second round of AC, which is the chemo drugs I’m getting right now. I drove myself to my appointment this time, and was alone throughout the treatment. I watched Netflix, and to be honest, I don’t mind going alone. The chemo infusion itself is actually very short, so having that time to just do absolutely nothing, is quite nice.

I’m a few hours out and feeling decent. Hot flashes have kicked in, and I have a sort of buzzed feeling, like I’ve been drinking or something. I have my on body injector again that will inject a steroid called Nuelasta, tomorrow afternoon. My hair is still intact, but fear that it’s only a matter of days now, possibly hours, before it starts coming out full force.

For now, I’m in cancer mode and will likely be out of commission for the next two to three days due to fatigue.

Prayers are welcomed and appreciated.