#cancertruths

Coping During the Holidays: 10 Truths About Battling Cancer

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Two years ago, I was diagnosed with Hodgkin’s Lymphoma just 4 weeks before Christmas.  The holidays are one of my favorite times of the year, yet it was hard to be merry and bright when my diagnosis loomed overhead like a black cloud, dampening the joy of the season. My fear of getting cancer had been realized. Now it seemed all bets were off. The fear of the unknown and my impending treatment was overwhelming. I went from planning holiday get-togethers to silently planning my funeral.

I tried to put on a brave face for my family. Yet my shoulders were growing heavy with a new burden.  How do I tell my children how sick I am without frightening them? When is the right time to tell family and friends?

The truth is, there is no right time to be told you have cancer but getting diagnosed during the holidays can be especially difficult. But I’ve also found active treatment is only one part of the battle. Remission brings its own unique challenges. I wanted to share 10 truths about battling cancer to help family and friends understand and better support cancer patients and survivors this holiday season.

 

10 Things I Wish Family and Friends Understood About Battling Cancer:

1.       Don’t be afraid to talk to me about my diagnosis, treatment or how I’m feeling. It can be awkward trying to find the right words to say or talk about when your friend or loved one is battling cancer. Many people start to distance themselves out of fear of saying or doing the wrong thing—often without realizing it. Cancer can be a lonely journey at times. Please keep trying to connect. Don’t be afraid. Deep down, I know you mean well and I’m just glad you are trying to relate.

 

2.       I may put on a brave face, but deep down I’m still terrified. This journey is filled with so much uncertainty. There are many unknowns. I work hard to ignore the feeling of constant dread. Battling cancer has taught me that sometimes the fear doesn’t leave. You must do it afraid. Outwardly, I try to remain strong, steadfast and optimistic while internally it often feels like I’m drowning in a sea of ambiguity— with no clear answers and no end in sight.

3.       Sometimes there is no right answer or words to say.  At times I often struggle to put my feelings into words and I’m sure you do too. Please know, when I’m having a difficult time, all I need you to do is listen to my fears and concerns. When you’re at a loss for words, a simple hug or hand-holding can mean all the difference.

 

4.       I may not be able to come due to my health or financial reasons. Please invite me anyway. Going through cancer can be incredibly lonely. From putting off school to starting a family, so much of our lives get put on hold when we get diagnosed.  Family and friends can distance themselves intentionally or without even realizing it.  Please continue to reach out, even if there is a good chance we will decline the invitation. Having an event or special occasion to look forward to can be a welcome distraction, giving us something other than cancer to focus on. It also helps us feel more “normal” when everything in our life feels far from it.

 

5.       Chemo brain is extremely frustrating and debilitating. Please be patient with me. Cancer treatment affects our bodies in multiple ways. Thinking and memory problems are common during and even long after treatment has ended. Many cancer patients struggle with short-term memory loss, finding it difficult to concentrate, multi-task often struggling to find the right words.  Sometimes these cognitive changes can be short-lived; for others, they can be permanent.

 

6.       Remission can in many ways be harder than active treatment. My treatment may have ended but I’m now facing a new battle.  I often find myself walking a thin line between acceptance and vigilance, gratitude and cynicism— struggling to find my new normal amid the constant fear of relapse. It’s the flip-side of cancer treatment that not many talk about.  It’s a constant push and pull to move on while feeling like a shell of your old self. I wish I could rewind the time and be able to go back to being carefree and blindly optimistic about everything my future holds. The unfortunate reality is my health makes long-term plans difficult. I still have four more years of close monitoring until I’m hopefully declared “cured.” This means regular checkups every three months and scans every 6 months.  

7.       Cancer PTSD is real. Treatment is just as hard on our minds as it is on our bodies. First comes the shock of the diagnosis, then the physical effects of treatment and anxiety about what the future holds. Long after treatment is over, and even if you’re in remission, the psychological scars can remain. A study published in the journal Cancer found that PTSD affects one in five patients within six months of diagnosis. Sometimes it is only after treatment has ended that the severity of what we endured comes to light. Regular checkups and routine monitoring continue years after treatment stops causing many survivors to struggle with a constant fear of recurrence. Over time these feelings may fade but it’s important to seek help. Therapy can help you cope and learn to manage your symptoms.

 

8.       Cancer has changed me so much physically and emotionally, I hardly recognize myself anymore. The truth is I lost more than my hair; I lost my sense of self, my identity and parts of my womanhood during my cancer treatment. I apologize for being moody, difficult and distant at times.   The mixture of survivor’s guilt and low self-esteem now makes small talk awkward, and I often take things way too seriously or personally.  Cancer has changed me for better and for worse. But I now understand how precious my time is. I don’t want to waste it being inauthentic. I long for real connection and incredible experiences that ignite my soul. Cancer has given me the courage and urgency to act and stop putting off what I really want.  

 

9.       I may be free of my disease, it still haunts me and affects me every day. We rejoice when treatment ends, but we often don’t realize the long-term effects cancer treatment has on our bodies. Chronic pain, neuropathy, fainting/dizziness, cold/heat intolerance, and heart problems are just a few of the side-effects I’m still struggling with over a year after my last treatment.  

 

10.   Although I don’t always say it, I’m so glad you are in my life and I don’t have to go through this alone. I’ll never forget the outpouring of support my family and I received when we told everyone the news. From babysitting to weekly meals, the constant prayers and care we received meant the world to me. Just knowing that I didn’t have to fight alone and my family was taken care of let me concentrate on getting better. I may be out of active treatment, but the truth is I can use your support and understanding now more than ever. The enormity of everything strikes you once treatment is over. I’ve found healing takes time and it follows no set schedule. It’s messy, frustrating and often unpredictable. Thank you for walking this journey with me. I’m so grateful to have you in my life.

 

Source:

Cancer's Other Side Effect: What You Should Know About PTSD – Roswell Park Cancer Talk

Moving Forward; Not Moving On

“Just when the caterpillar thought the world was over, it became a butterfly.” English proverb

“Just when the caterpillar thought the world was over, it became a butterfly.” English proverb

“Take a deep breath in and hold it…”

I took a giant gulp of air and held my breath for what seemed like an eternity.

“You can breathe now.”

My legs were shaking uncontrollably from the coldness in the room and the anxiety coursing through my body.

Suddenly, a river of warmth radiated through my body as the contrast dye flowed from my chest up my neck and throughout the rest of my body.

Months and weeks of dread and anticipation have led to this point. The truth is I will be holding my breath until I get the results of this latest CT scan.

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For the next few days I will be in this sort of agonizing limbo, where my future hangs on the results of today. This period is never easy.  I will never get used to having to plan my future and my family’s long-term plans in three-month increments.

One of the hardest parts of cancer treatment is the not knowing. The long periods when we must wait, hold our breath in anticipation of what’s next.

It’s hard to move on after you have cancer. Whether you’re lucky enough to reach remission, it seems you are always walking on eggshells, afraid that every weird sensation is your cancer resurfacing.

It’s hard to move on, when every three months you have a doctor’s visit, blood work or a scan that will stage your fate. It’s easy to get lost in this ambiguity. It’s difficult to stay positive amidst so much uncertainty.

But that’s the reality of life after cancer.

Life gets shaded differently after treatment. Once vibrant and full of life and certainty, your world suddenly becomes colored in varying shades of gray. Everything it seems now gets filtered through a different lens.

Our past and present unique life experiences color the lens through which we view the world. And sometimes it’s the darkness that brings color to our existence and meaning to our lives. I’m slowly learning I can’t stop these waves of uncertainty, and I’m getting better at riding the waves of ambiguity. I’m starting to find new ways of balancing the heartache that comes from the not knowing.

Living in the shadow of cancer helps you realize we are all just a heartbeat away from eternity.

We never really know what an hour or day may bring. I’ve found that sometimes it's the same moments that take your breath away are the same ones that breathe purpose and love back into your life. And many times, the only thing we have control over is how we choose to react to the challenges we face.

We are all searching for our perfect endings. We want our happily-ever-after.

But I’ve learned, the hard way, there is no moving on after cancer, there is only moving forward.

We push forward through all the uncertainty and the painful side effects from our treatment. Time and time again we pick ourselves up and carry on the fight because we now realize that to live is to risk. To love is to risk. We can’t and won’t allow fear to direct our choices.

Fear likes to be in charge. It wants us to forget that we’re not in control.

Fear wants us to forget that no one has all the answers and that manipulation and worry never work.

Fear encourages us to play out negative scenarios in our mind for our future and the future of the world.

But I’m slowly learning when I spend less and less time listening to fear and my inner critic, through practice, a little willingness and a shift in perceptionhow quickly I can rise above it.

Life is about not knowing, having to adapt, taking each moment as it comes and make the best of it—without knowing what’s going to happen next.

Challenges will come. Results may surprise. In the end, what we are waiting for is not as important as what happens to us while we are waiting. We must trust the process and let life unfold naturally. Just as butterflies remind us through their own transformation to keep the faith—all will work out exactly as it was meant to be.



"The butterfly counts not months but moments, and has time enough." - Rabindranath Tagore

"The butterfly counts not months but moments, and has time enough." - Rabindranath Tagore



Everybody Dies, but Not Everyone Lives

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A little over a year ago, I came face to face with my own mortality. Sure, I’ve looked fear in the eyes before and had seemingly cheated death a couple times. But this time? This was the first time I felt like my life was in serious danger. Cancer, chemotherapy and endless tests and procedures soon became my family’s reality when I was diagnosed with stage 3 Hodgkin Lymphoma in November 2017. For the first time in my life, my future became this unpredictable web of uncertainty. Sure the life I had envisioned for my family was still right there in front of me but it was somehow now out of grasp. I silently wondered how many more days I would have with those I love.

How do you pull yourself together, when everything is seemingly falling apart? It’s a question I often wrestle with. The truth is keeping your sh$t together when your world appears like one big dumpster fire is no easy task.

I’ve found it’s often a daily mind game full of terrifying what ifs and impossible choices. But through it all, I’ve come to learn the fact that you still have a choice really IS the true blessing.

Although at times your battle becomes painfully real again the moment you open your eyes, the fact that your eyes are open and there is air in your lungs is a miracle. Celebrate it. The fact you can move your body and feel the embrace of others is a gift. Appreciate it. If you can still hear a beautiful melody or a loved one’s voice. Treasure it.  No matter what your day looks like or how depleted and drained your body feels...YOU are still HERE.

 Nearly losing my life has taught me the beauty each day holds when we stop to savor the little things. Like the crunch of the winter snow under my boots and the way the snow seems to glisten in the moonlight. Or how my daughter’s eye lashes form the perfect half moon shape. And how my children’s laughter can lighten the darkest mood.

Each morning that I get to rise offers another chance to get it right and each night provides a moment to pause and be grateful I had another opportunity to become a better version of myself. Surviving cancer has taught me the importance of living for today…living for more time with those I love. Treasuring the good, bad and ugly today brings because our tomorrows, no matter how bright… are never guaranteed.

All we ever have is NOW.

Are you living or merely surviving?

“If you are depressed, you are living in the past, if you are anxious, you are living in the future, if you are at peace, you are living in the present.” Lao Tzu