unspoken words

I haven't blasted the fact I have cancer to the world.  I was choosey about who I told and when.  I don't know why I did that. 

When I am honest with myself and think about it, I figured it out. It is the initial reaction, the weirdness, the shock, the blank stare, the unknown words. It is all of the above.  I did not want to be the cancer patient, nor the friend or relative with cancer.  It was all too much. 

Sometimes people don't know what to say. Or there is an underlining pity of being sick. Or it is just hard for someone to grasp your reality, especially if they haven't walked that path before.  

I do love connecting with people who have had cancer and hearing their struggles or how their journey was. Those people show up organically and at just the right times when I need it. 

No matter what the cancer or how the person survived, there's a common demononator, the unspoken, "I get it. And I understand and it's going to be okay." Oh and by the way, 'you look great!'

I love hearing that, because often I don't feel great, but to know it doesn't show is nice to hear.  

Sometimes being the person with cancer becomes the burden.  We are the ones reassuring others, their concerns and fears are also ours.  That's the piece I don't love.  I don't want anyone to ever feel sad or worried or scared for me.

I have felt the fear.  I have felt the unknown.  I have felt the insecurities.

I do know, the more I push, the more I can handle.  My capacity becomes limitless. I find new ways of gathering courage and I give myself permission to understand my own reality without misunderstanding the whys.  This isn't easy.  Don't let my calm disposition fool you. It is never easy, but I won't tell you that.  

I see the questions on people's faces.  I sense the words they won't always speak.

I want to fill in the blanks and answer the questions people may not think they can ask.  I will always answer honestly, but I will make sure you hear the good.  

The thing is, I'm the same person, but I'm not. I am nothing like I'd imagine. I smile even when it hurts. I am mindful of the little things and more at peace then you'd expect.

Although my body is compromised, my heart is expanding and giving as much possible. This is how I am surviving. Love for myself. Care for myself.  If I falter my body will respond with negativity.  Yet, I am still present for my boys and managing that thing called life.  

Feeling Good is Being Good. 

I will never give up, as I have too much to live for, but I would never want to forsake the moments I have.  That is what we can't tell you.  The reality of "what if,' is the reality I should have always lived.  

Each moment becomes more meaningful. If I feel good, I'm moving forward.  I want to feel good to continue moving. The road blocks are not as big as I was expecting, but I don't know what's to come.

The reality is always there, as a shadow of myself, whispering the truth. 

Those are the unspoken words.  

Listen closely.

chemo shemo - the myths of chemo

Chemo is a BAD word!

Everyone thinks they know what the deal is with chemo, but really until it is being injected or IVed into your blood system, no one truly has any idea about chemo.

Posion. Literally. Poison. 

I know this. 

As I watch the nurse put on her protective plastic gown.  

She knows this.

I decide not to focus on how gross Chemo really is.  A tryfector plus one deadly cocktail.  

When I am caught up thinking about all the side affects and how chemo will attack my body, good and bad cells, I have a rough time coping.

I choose to spin it. I spin my thought process, instead of negativity, I think that all my cells are getting a second chance to rejuvenate.

I will rebirth.   

My skin, my hair, my internal systems will have a second chance to be brand new.

I drink a super healthy pressed green juice and have my own supplement pill cocktail to keep all those brand new cells coposteyhric.  

In that respect my perspective has changed immensely.  Each day, as I awake, I truly don't know how I will feel.  That first moment of realization gets better and easier, I'm no longer afraid of the worse.

I whisper to myself, 'I am going to feel find and be fine.' my body graciously obliges.  

The more new cells that regenerate the stronger I become.   

As if I am a super hero fighting the merky muck within, ensuring only good combats evil every second of every day.

When I have a treatment, I do not give the chemo one tiny thought.  I don't give it the energy to harm me, I pay it no mind.  I only believe it will transform my internal chemistry to be exactly as it needs to be to keep everything pushing forward in the right direction.  

Being strong is only a mental state I intuitively allow to embrace my being.  I do not understand it, nor do I try to explain it.  

I am discovering this for the first time as I type these words to form my unspoken thoughts.

Cancer - Chemo - Condition 

Conditioning ourselves to become something new, someone different, somebody unexpected.  

Definitionless.

BOUNDARYLESS.

PowerLess.  

Just be.  Yes.  Powerless, as I have no control.  I have no will.  I have no idea......

.....What will be.   

And the sooner I accepted this process, the quicker I began to heal. 

Bang Bang Bang

Hold on tight and get ready for the ride of your life as we fall down this rabbit hole.

There are so many things that need to happen after being diagnosed with cancer that I took for granted. 

Begin by clearing your calendar for all those doctor appointments. I had a list of "ists": Pulmonologist, Oncologist, Radiologist, Neurologist, Primaryolgists.

(Kidding on the brain doctor, I just felt like I needed one to check my brain waves)  

Prepare to be poked and prodded.  They'll be biopsies and day op surgeries, and port installations.  I kid ya not! 

So many fun and exciting experiences.  I only mean this a little bit.  There is one procedure that I promised myself I would write about.

That very popular Bone Marrow biopsy. 

For those that have no idea what I'm talking about, consider this a cautionary tale.

I arrived to my day op location, checked in, and I was thrilled that the same nurses were there from when I had my first biopsy a month prior.  Yes, I already had a team of nurses who knew me and my story.  They were wonderful and I was happy to see familiar faces. 

How bad could this be? 

The doctor or someone who was about to wheel me away gave me the run down. He was full of personality, which I discovered later, was all part of the process.  

He proceed to tell me exactly what was going to happen to put me at ease.  They'll wheel you in, you'll be lying on your stomach, they'll give you some medicine in your IV. (the good stuff), you'll feel the local briefly when he administers the needle, and you'll hear some banging during the biopsy process.

"Don't be alarmed."

The banging piece was glossed over as an afterthought, but I was still having thoughts of being on cloud 9.  I was not thinking much about anything, especially a comprehensive thought of what he meant about the bang bang.   

"Like what does that even mean?"   

As I lay on my stomach waiting for the good stuff to kick in my IV, the doctor was prepping my lower back.  

I had a feeling it would hurt, but the local they gave me was doing it's job. I was literally feeling no pain, physically or mentally.

I was awake the entire time, I made sure I was as relaxed as possible, and turned my head to the left to see what was going on.

It wasn't the huge needle I even cared about, it was the mallet in a hospital sealed sanitary clear bag that caught my eye.  

Holy Shit, pardon moi french, but what in the world would they need a mallet for? 

FUNNY DOCTOR DID NOT MENTION A MALLET IN HIS RUN THROUGH.  

And in a whirlwind of disbelief, I just realized what and why they would be banging.

And before I truly processsed what was about to happen.

Bang!!! Bang!! Bang!

They used the mallet to slam the needle into my lower back bone.  They literally performed, what I would call, the most barbaric act on my body.

Bang!!! Bang!! Bang!

And again.  I totally understand how most people would be traumatized by this.  

Bang!!! Bang!! Bang!

Thank goodness for happy drugs, I truly am unsure how anyone would lay there otherwise.

Bang!!! Bang!! Bang!

It took until all my meds were 100% wore off, and I woke up at some God awful hour that evening and thought, Holy crap they slammed a needle into my lower back. It was a mallet!! A real mallet.

For three days I was achy. (They didn't warn me about that) 

For three days I was bewildered, modern medicine had come a long way, but every now and then we go back to the basics.

"Nurse hand me the Mallet."  

Bang!!! Bang!! Bang!

the rebirth

Something happens to a person when they face death in the face.

I do not write this to be dramatic, I write this because I changed.  Something inside of me altered my state of reality.

I was like crap!  I'm not living my life to my fullest potential.  What if I was given a death sentence.  What if my diagnosis wasn't treatable??? 

I thought about all the things I put off for another day.  It was not acceptable.  

Seize the day!  

Today was the day. 

Today was the day to make a change. 

I started by buying that coffee maker I had my eye on.  It was in my Amazon account. It grinds beans. It's a press one button coffee maker.  It was something I didn't think I should spend the money on.  In one swift click - 💥 Boom! It was being shipped, my little piece of heaven each morning.  My fresh cup of coffee without the messy grinds.

This was my start for living in the now.  I do love a cup of good coffee and it was most definitely better than Starbucks.  

Once I got my head straight, I started diminishing boundaries.  

I needed to change my perspective with respect to all the stereotypes I had heard about cancer.

I needed to change my mind.  

A) What did I think about cancer?

B) What did I believe?

C) Why did I feel a certain way?

a) cancer was either a death sentence or a life living death sentence.

b) life comes to a halt.

c) cancer has a complete negative connotation.

1-2-3)  this was not me!  I needed to change my mind on what cancer meant to me.

I would live harder.

I would love deeper.

I would be stronger. 

I decided jumping on the back of a motorcycle was scarier than cancer.  This is how I began to change my story.

I lived my fears.

I diminished my fears.

I conquered my fears.

And when someone gave me THEIR fears about cancer, I conquered those too. I refused to fall into the stereotype of what you should and shouldn't do.  

I decided not to throw myself out there to fight the fight.  I threw myself out there to be better for myself.  

I figured out my fight was with myself.  What can I handle?  What am I made of?  How deep does mind over matter resonate?

I jumped into my role and I didn't look back.  I jumped on the ride of my new life and never hesitated.

I would take the uncomfortable and make it comfortable. Truth was, I felt uncomfortable with so many little things. 

I wanted to be comfortable with my existence.  

My TLC was about not listening to anything or anyone, but my own needs and my own wants.  I gave myself permission to take care of my myself and I refused to feel bad about any of it.  

Living with cancer became a set-mind.