I know it’s April Fools Day and some of you are either giving or getting pranked today, but this post is certainly not about that. This is a very serious post and one that is near and dear to my heart. I hope you’ll bear with me and know that I’m not trying to be a Debbie Downer on this fabulous Monday. Such is not the case. Today is actually a day of celebration.
You see, exactly one year ago tomorrow, I received the last of 16 chemotherapy treatments. Yes, that’s right. Tomorrow is the one-year anniversary of my final round of cancer treatments. I guess I am officially 1-year cancer free, although technically I don’t really know when I’m supposed to start counting. My surgeon told me that he was 99% positive he’d removed all of the cancer during the surgery. So, should I use that date? But, there could have been some rogue cancer cells floating around in my body, ergo the need for the aggressive treatment plan. So, maybe I should use the last treatment date? I’m not sure there’s a correct answer to that question. But, I digress. Tomorrow is the day I choose to celebrate.
I knew going in, from the moment I was diagnosed, that I was definitely NOT going to die. But still, when you hear the words, “you have cancer,” you can’t help but think that way for even the slightest of moments. None of the medical professionals I met EVER indicated that I would not come out of the treatments with flying colors (unless I developed an allergy to one of the medications, but let’s not even go there). I always knew that I was going to be okay. It was going to be ugly and unpleasant, but I’d be okay.
But, am I really okay? It’s been a year. My hair has grown back. I’ve stopped taking most of the medications I was on. I’ve had 3 mammograms that all came back with good results. I’ve had numerous check-ups with 4 different doctors who all say, I look good and I’m healing properly. People say I look really good. Everything’s good according to everyone. But is everything really good?
Why do I still feel so yucky sometimes? Why do I not have enough energy to make it through the day without feeling like I’m going to collapse from sheer exhaustion at the end of it? Why do I have weird aches and pains? Why do I sometimes just want to sit down and bawl my eyes out? Why do I sometimes say things that make me sound like an idiot when I’d never had issues expressing myself before? Why? Why? Why? When I question my doctors they all say the same thing: “Yup. You’ve had cancer.” Apparently I’m normal. But I don’t feel “normal.”
What I don’t understand is why nobody tells you about this part of the healing process. The not feeling “normal” process. Everyone is so focused on a treatment plan, surgery, blood work, tests, etc. and I get it. That stuff’s really important. But, what nobody talks about is the mental side of things. The emotional part that may never be the same again. There’s no warning issued about this aftermath of having cancer or how to deal with it. The doctors just listen, tell me I’m fine and that they’ll see me again in six months.
Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not sitting around every day having a pity party and feeling sorry for myself because I had cancer, because I definitely am not doing that. That’s not how I roll. But, I do sometimes sit around and wonder why nobody told me from the get-go that I’d have days like this. Days when I don’t want to get out of bed. Days when I feel crummy for no apparent reason. Days when even simple tasks seem monumental to accomplish. Days when I’m so out of breath when I get to the top of the stairs that I have to sit down. Those days are frustrating and I tend to get weepy because I used to be able to do certain things that now seem hopeless or impossible.
I know, I know, waa, waa, waa, poor, poor me. I’m not looking for sympathy, I’m just telling you guys that if you know someone who’s had cancer, don’t assume they’re “fine” now because it’s been a year, or two, or God knows how long, because they might not be fine. There are mental wounds that take a very long time to heal.
Maybe ask them if you can do anything to help them. Maybe they’d like a day off or an afternoon out. Invite them to lunch or do something that helps them feel “normal,” again. Help them with chores. Talk to them. Being able to share your experiences goes a long way in helping to feel normal. Talking to people who say “yup, you’ve had cancer,” does not help you feel normal. It helps you feel like a cancer patient, which is NOT what I want to feel like at this point. I want to feel whole again. Like I used to. My normal weirdo self.
Okay, I’m done. I’m going to crawl into my chair now with my blankey and a glass of sparkly wine and watch cartoons for awhile. Hey – I’m 1-year cancer free – I deserve a little R & R right?
Thanks for listening.
Do you know someone who’s had cancer? How do you deal with your emotions when there’s not really anything wrong you just feel out of sorts? Are you a pranker on April Fools? Come on, share your prank stories with me.
Word of the Day: Fainéant
Fun fact about me: I’m still trying to come up with an appropriate response (other than “fine”) to say to people when they ask me how I’m doing.
Original post by Jansen Schmidt, March 2019. Images by Giphy, Pexels and Google Images.
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First of all, Patricia, it’s far from a pity party. It’s a catharsis. The more you open up about it the more you heal from it. Excellent post from that standpoint.
As for when people ask me “How are you doing?”, I say “I’m upright and taking nourishment.” It’s up to them to figure out if that’s good or bad.
Happy First of April.
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Thanks Al. I appreciate he boost. It’s so hard to explain to people how I’m feeling. The best way to describe it is – just not right. I suppose it might not ever be the same again and that’s okay, I just need to grow accustomed to it. That’s the frustrating part.
Thank you for the encouragement. I appreciate knowing others care.
And, as my husband always says when someone asks him how he’s doing, he says, “I’m above ground.” I like that response as well.
As always, thanks for stopping by. Have a great week.
Patricia
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Patricia, I am so glad to hear you are healthy. Every day is a new day and a new opportunity to get stronger and healthier. For all of us. When we take on the attitude of 1% each day – in some way – it flips the paradigm. I have had some pretty crappy days over the past year – 2 new knees and some other stuff but each day – even the 3000 step day where I was in a lot of pain and drugged haze was a chance to step forward and get a little stronger and healthier. The bottom line – sun will come up in the morning and that means it’s time to start all over again. Boom. Have a wonderful day and a fabulous week!
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Thanks Clay. I know that you have been through a lot this past year as well so you sort of know how I feel. And losing a loved one on top of that is especially hard. That’s the worst kind of pain and it never goes away. It gets easier to deal with, but it’s always going to be there. I sympathize with you on that.
Now, we both need to get out there and make the days count right?
Thanks for stopping by and sharing. I appreciate the support. Have a wonderful week.
Patricia
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I celebrate every day that you my dear friend are cancer free. You are quite right about the aftermath of treatment, you are not the same. However as your friend I want to tell you that you are way to hard on yourself. You do amazing things and are incredibly hard working. You have also worked and run a business through all the treatment which most people would find that too much in itself. Your body has been poisoned with the medication which must leave some effects. Also the mental trauma from being told you have had cancer also leaves its own scars. Broken bones take a long time to heal and sometimes leaves permanent aches and pains, because it is something we see we think well ok that is to be expected however cancer is silent and unseen and unlike any other kind of illness. You do other people who have gone and ad going through what you have a very great service by writing about what you are experiencing because it is such a lonely condition which only you and other sufferers experience. It isn’t possible for anyone who has not gone through what you have to understand how you are truly feeling and experiencing but know that your friends care about you and are there for you anytime you need them. I would give you a hug if I was there. Love you lots . ❤️💗😘
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Hey Michele – I know everything you’re saying is true. Keeping busy is the best way to keep my mind occupied. It works for me. I’ve never been one to sit around and feel sorry for myself. It may seem like I’m working too hard, but really, I’m just keeping my mind occupied so it doesn’t wander to unpleasant places.
I can’t wait for your visit. We have much to talk about and lots of hugs to share. It won’t be too long now.
Thanks for visiting and posting such a lovely comment. I truly appreciate knowing I have good friends out there.
Patricia
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Michele took the words out of my mouth in her reply. I’ve always been amazed at the amount of work you do running a B&B – even before your cancer diagnosis. Since then, I’m even more amazed. I think few people could do what you do, particularly while recuperating from cancer, Patricia. Cut yourself some slack.
By the way, you solved a mystery for me today. I’ve always wondered why my middle name is Fainéant. Now I know. lol
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My parents instilled in me a strong work ethic. I’m not comfortable lounging around if I know there are things that need to be done and – believe me – there are always things that need to be done. I have learned to relax a bit, however. I’m getting better at letting things go if I can. Running a business is taxing but it also keeps my mind off my woes. It’s sort of a catch-22.
Thanks for visiting today. I truly appreciate seeing all the positivity from my friends. Especially my silly ones with crazy middle names!
Patricia
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Hooray that you have a year of being cancer-free! And honestly, I don’t know how you have the energy to run an inn and still have a life, and that’s without throwing any post-cancer junk in the mix! Your’e amazing and definitely deserve a moment with sparkly wine and cartoons whenever you feel the need, no guilt or remorse. ❤
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Thanks Coleen. Running the inn actually helps keep my mind off my body. That’s sort of a weird juxtaposition (that’s probably not the right word) but staying busy keeps my mind occupied so I don’t have time to feel sorry for myself. Plus, I think the aftermath of so many harsh drugs sort of creates depression when you stop taking them. That’s my story anyway. I had such a horrible cocktail of pills everyday it’s not wonder I fried some brain cells.
Anyway, I appreciate the support. I like knowing there are people out there who care. And, you’re right, I am entitled to a cartoon day once in a while. We all are.
Have a wonderful week my friend.
Patricia
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Oh my, all the crap you mentioned after the C is gone can come with menopause even without anything else – so to add cancer and all the treatments on top of that? You’re superwoman to do all you do! One of my local writer friends went through what you did around the same time. They put her on hormones as part of her treatment, and some of them had some really bad emotional effects. So all of this is understandable. Keep on keeping on, and go watch some Disney when you need to! And thanks for the education. Now going back to being my usual fainéant self… (OK, doing some work, but nothing like what you do!)
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Jennette, wouldn’t it be great to have the energy of that blond woman in the gif above? In my mind, that’s how I remember myself being. I know that part of it is getting older but it’s like I suddenly got 15 years older in one year. It’s frustrating. But, I know it’s because of the cancer and the treatment. All the poison and drugs mess with your innards and scramble your brain. I guess it just takes a while for things to get all straightened out again. I’m still taking some anti-depressants, which help (I guess) and some pills to help me sleep (mostly because of night sweat issues), but overall, I’m healing fine. And, that is really all that matters.
Thanks for stopping by and listening. I know you understand as well having some similar issues with adrenal glands and whatnot. I guess we just have to be thankful for what we do have and what we can do right?
Have a great rest of the week my friend. At least spring has arrived and the flowers are blooming. There’s color in the world again!
Patricia
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