love is health
A birthday of sorts: 1 year later8/13/2014 Part 1: The reality of life post treatment
Tomorrow marks the anniversary of my mastectomy. It's amazing how time sneaks through us. Despite the last 12 months, my life generally looks the same as before: awesome husband, house, work, roller derby. However looking deeper, I see I failed to welcome a new version of myself, and it's about time I come to accept this new skin. I assumed when treatment was over, I would live happily every after, no longer having to deal with side effects, unexpected symptoms, and physical changes. I imagined my life would be just like it was pre-diagnosis - that my body would rebound back to its pre-cancer state. I didn't know my metabolism would slow so quickly, rendering my chest asymmetrical. I didn't know my knees would ache all the time, or that my skin would bruise so easily. The worst of it - I didn't know I would still be dealing with intense hot flashes months after treatment finished. They interrupt sleep, meals, activities. They come on like a fiery freight train, unstoppable, and hardly mitigated. My body feels alien to my spirit at times, and I fight to remember I am not my body. It's difficult to look into the mirror and see a much older, off kilter version of myself. While I have always embraced and looked forward to aging, these aren't exactly the terms I anticipated. I've had 12 months of a physical transformation I was not expecting, impacting my identity in ways I never imagined. The person I examine in the mirror seems more like a reflection of me at 41 rather than 31. And although I have chosen to not have children, I grieve my fertility has disappeared without choice or trace. I didn't even know that was a risk. Part 2: Reconciliation & Loving What Is There is guilt in grieving. Here I am, a year after diagnosis, alive and well. Perhaps I should only be grateful (?) That's nonetheless a hard pill to swallow at 3am, waking up in sweat-drenched sheets. On occasion I'll lament my hot flashes, only to feel isolated by the recognition others can't empathize. I'm quick to stifle my complaints under the self-governed pressure of "it's been 8 months - get over it". And while I know how totally trivial and silly this sounds in the grand scheme of things - I'm still learning how to have curly hair, especially during monsoon season. I feel like I look like this. You can probably tell I haven't been very compassionate to me while I heal. So eager to get back to "normal" me, I failed to welcome and embrace new me. New me doesn't get hungry 3 times/ day. New me has squeaky knees while doing squats. New me needs naps some days, or risks driving home drowsy. I'm a little softer, a lot sweatier, and shorter of breath. but... New me also has awesome hair that looks amazing after falling asleep with it wet. New me can still nail a 25+ point power jam. New me has won MVP jammer twice this year, captained my team through an undefeated year, is registered for a half marathon in November, and on my way to a half Ironman a year from now. (These accomplishments aren't without assistance. I couldn't have done any of this without luke and my teams. However, that doesn't make them trivial.) Looking more closely, tomorrow is a birthday of sorts - the birth of a grittier, stronger, healthier version of me.
0 Comments
AboutSnapshots in time across a span of years managing breast cancer Archives
June 2020
Categories
All
|