Wide Awake

Eastern Cottontail

“Fear doesn't shut you down; it wakes you up”
― Veronica Roth

Life has been… hectic.

I was diagnosed with breast cancer in November of last year, just a few days after my 66th birthday. Invasive lobular carcinoma.
To say it was not on my radar is an understatement. I was instantly flooded with fear and uncertainty. My world shifted and I felt so completely ungrounded. It took me more than a few days to process the words I heard coming out of my surgeons mouth. I felt numb. Then anger. Then sadness, frustration, and well, just choose an emotion and insert it here.

We all know someone, and in some cases many someones, who has dealt with or is dealing with cancer.
And we always hope that the ‘someone’ is never ourselves.
Like with most things, there are never any guarantees and one can do all of the ‘right’ things and still end up hearing the words that no one is every quite prepared to hear.

Thus far, I have had a partial mastectomy and have conferred with two different surgeons. I’ve met with an oncologist and have visited multiple specialists to obtain clearances for what lies ahead.
What currently lies ahead is another surgery to remove the remaining cancer in my breast and removing additional lymph glands, since all of the glands removed during my first surgery tested positive for cancer. Then a very long course of chemo followed by radiation.

The waiting has been extremely hard. Worry tends to pile up and I’m in overload mode much of the time since the appointments and procedures that seem to be unending are so very tiring. I’m riding an emotional rollercoaster, but I have reached out to a professional counselor to help me process the plethora of emotions that I can and do experience on any given day. She is extremely good at what she does.
It helps.

I have many long conversations with my best friend and life partner. He has been a constant source of support and love throughout my multiple health issues and this all affects him so deeply. One of the worst aspects of my illnesses has always been how it impacts the lives of those I love. Caregivers are unsung heroes and my wonderful husband is surely mine. I want him to feel as loved and safe as humanly possible, so we talk everything out. Everything.
That also helps.

I have sought financial aid far and wide because I know from my past experience with radiation therapy for another type of illness, that I will not have the energy to fill out mountains of paperwork once my treatments start.
That helps too. As one who has had to claim a medical bankruptcy in the past, my fear of the financial aspect of illness is often greater than that of the illness itself. It shouldn’t be that way, but our healthcare system in this country is so very broken and has been for a very long time.
If you are not aware of that, then I can only surmise that you are fortunate to be either healthy or wealthy. Perhaps both.
(I will save that for another post as I could write a book on that subject alone.)

I try to make sure that our sweet rescue Mojo doesn’t feel neglected throughout this ordeal, as illness impacts our pets as well. They still require exercise and some sense of normalcy during a time where absolutely nothing feels normal. He has spent much time with my neighbor, who is helping me greatly by watching over him during my many appointments. But he’s a timid rescue so this has been hard for him. Dogs are sensitive beings and he is the most sensitive dog we have ever had. He has slept with his back tight against mine since my surgery.
He knows. He cares. He’s a very important member of our family circle and his well being is important,

I educate myself on my treatments as I have a voice in my treatment plan.
I read good books, vent my frustrations by journaling (I also keep a gratitude journal), I pick up my paints and splash much needed color across paper and take naps when my body and mind say enough.

I cook good meals, even on the days that I don’t have much of an appetite because my kitchen is my happy place. Cooking is a mindful task. You have to be present in the moment or risk setting your kitchen on fire. Cooking comforts me.

I meditate. Every day I devote at least 15 minutes to shutting off my thoughts. and focus on my breathing. I have struggled with meditation for many years, but it is starting to come more natural to me, and I can feel the difference in my energy level.

There is no easy way through this, but there are ways to make things less hard. Self care absolutely needs to be a priority. You push pride aside and ask for help. And help is there, it is just difficult to find at times, so you keep searching.

In short, I have been creating a safety net of sorts, gathering it around me in bundles of emotional comfort in a situation where it feels I have so very little control over much of anything.

I’m pretty sure that once my actual treatment starts, I will feel differently, as currently I am still in limbo, awaiting more consults and test results. The time spent waiting allows for fear to creep in when you know that cancer is spreading through your body and then there is the COVID factor. Hospitals, md offices, labs and all things medical are backed up with patients and understaffed.

Each and every time I have been forced to face my own mortality eye to eye, I have grown from the experience and most often in ways that are not easily put into words. Illness changes you on every level imaginable and then some.

There is no guidebook for coping with cancer. Some days I don’t feel as if I am handling this well, but I am wide awake and feeling everything deeply.


( I have enabled commenting for now, but that may change in the future as I rearrange my priorities.)