Some brilliant "poet" said, "Life's no picnic."

Apparently there's some unwritten rule that Bloggers are supposed to post something every day? Ha! Well, that's not gonna happen... I mean, I guess I could turn this shindig into a completely self-indulgent diary of sorts but I think that would get real boring REAL fast. It might read something like this: Today I feel great. I ran "X" kilometers. The weather was hot... my kids were cute today blah blah blah. And this: Today I'm nauseated. I barely got out of bed. My tummy hurts. I have no appetite. I lost more weight. I feel like I can't even run. I'm agitated and have no patience for anyone.... I'm scared the cancer is back blah blah blah.

Everywhere I go, people kindly ask me how I'm feeling. The further I get from finishing chemo, the more I realize that this cancer journey isn't over so quickly for most people. There's not a "cure" for cancer. There are some amazing miracle stories out there and you have to cling to them and believe that a miracle can be your own. I'm very good at doing that and I do have a lot of faith. Mostly.

I've made a lot of new friends on this journey. Some of them had cancer and are Survivors. Some are Previvors. Many of my new friends are still unsure. After completing treatment and entering Remission, you have the ability and the freedom to do anything. I guess people can use the term, "cured", in retrospect... when they're G-d willing 80-something and it's been decades since they entered Remission... but as my Grandpa Ben, of blessed memory who lived to the magnificent age of 97, used to say, "Nobody knows". Cancer is still a mystery like the mystery of fertility or the After Life. Anyone who solves this mystery and discovers the magic ball that will predict the outcome is either G-d or the future's most brilliant scientist!

I have some awesome days!  ...And sometimes I feel sick. It's not an emotional-kind-of-sick. There's a bit of a racket surrounding cancer. It's messy. Abdominal surgery messes up your insides. There can be scarring, adhesions. Not to mention the jumble left after certain organs are removed. Something has to fill the void. Hormonal imbalances. Chemotherapy messes with your brain. It erases certain things. Chemo Brain is a real thing. 

It's not surprising that even after you graduate from cancer treatment that the whole cancer journey doesn't just end even if you're in Remission and hopeful to leave cancer in the dust. 

Cancer is lunacy. With the constant looming threat of Cancer hovering in my space, I could almost go insane on a bad day. I'm pretty responsible and I'm taking care of business. Following up after all the annoying signs and symptoms. Some require tests and action and others require patience and maybe even some alternative healing.  

I'm extremely grateful to my oncologist, who makes himself available and hears me. His concern is genuine. One of the things I'm forced to tolerate are the loving, well-meaning people, who think that they're gifted with the ability to predict the future. I will never tell someone who has/had cancer that I "know" they're fine or that I'm sure those painful symptoms that they're experiencing are "normal" or "just in their head" or "to be expected" or WHATEVER. It seems to be that there's some kind of auto-response that has to be given and You know I'm going to "fight it" or "beat it". You might hope or pray but that's no guarantee. We don't have all the answers and I know that's difficult and makes us feel powerless. We are all powerless but that's Life. I have to live with that powerlessness every single day. We all do.

Sadly, there are people who never completely "beat" cancer and it's not because they didn't pray and "fight" and try hard enough! Sometimes cancer doesn't go away. 

I'm only speaking for me when I say this and this is how I cope. I need to be okay with the worst case scenario. That's how I lower my own anxiety. This is something my dad taught me when I was freaking out in my first year of university. What if I fail?!! I managed to get myself into such a state just at the horrific thought of flunking... that my blood pressure skyrocketed and I was so physically ill, it was a bit ridiculous. My dad helped me through by helping me envision the worst case scenario and planning out how I would overcome and come out on top. What would happen if I failed? I'd have to find something else to do... would I drop dead? Would my life be over? Heck no! And that's how I learned to control my own blood pressure and I never suffered such intense anxiety again. 

There's always a way out. No matter how "awful" or "horrible" the situation may seem, there's something else beyond it. Even cancer. Even a relapse or a recurrence. Even death. AND I'm not a quitter or a loser or being a negative "stinkin' thinkin'"gal because I cope this way. Actually, I'm happy to say that I think I cope pretty darn indubitably well.

It's not only about Cancer. That's just life. Some brilliant "poet" said, "Life's no picnic.". Obviously they were right, not to say that we can't stop and have a few picnics on the way to wherever we're going. YES! It's all going to be okay. NO! I don't know what's going to be. I just know that I need to believe that it's all going to be okay. Even if it doesn't go my way every time.

Not There Yet

I'm not at a complete loss for words in fact I've got lots to say... mostly mundane and not-so-poignant these days (thankfully). Cancer survivors need a new birth date. Certainly I've been reborn... the question is when? Was it July 22nd, 2012, the day I was diagnosed? Or July 26th, 2012, the day of my life saving surgery? Perhaps the most suitable "new birth date" should be Jan. 13, 2013, the day I completed chemotherapy, set free to the new life of Remission. Maybe it's not the dates that matter, and maybe just remembering that I'm not the same Erika that I was then or then or then is enough.

I'm exactly 3 months off of chemotherapy and feeling like a different person. My hair is beyond sprouting, it's coming in thick and healthy and grey! My eyelashes and eyebrows came back and I've finally shaken the chemo-patient pallor that earned me many a pity-stare over the past several months. I have more energy. I still get exhausted much quicker than I used to and my short-term memory is nonexistent so I  rely on the calendar and alarms programed into my phone. In many ways, I quickly re-adapted and easily shed that cancer persona. BUT in the dark and early hours, I often toss and turn. Somehow late nights and early hours are the times when doubt and fear come to whisper and jeer. Those moments bring back physical pain and worries that are intense enough to convince me that the cancer is back to finish off what it started. So many events along the way have alerted me to the importance of listening to my inner voice - because when I feared the very worst,  my fears were true, and the many doctors who tried to persuade me that all was well were all wrong.

At some point you need to find a balance and I haven't yet. Is that a "normal" pain or is cancer rearing its ugly head again? If I can run 18 kilometers I must be healthy, right? And if all my blood work is "good" I should rest easy, no? Yet (not) funnily enough, my blood was healthy when I had a gut full of cancer... and I recall rooting for my dad as he ran a full marathon right before he was diagnosed with advanced colon cancer. Beyond faith there is no cure for worry and fear and beyond countless (unnecessary) scans and tests there's no proof. Constant worry is unavoidable. I try to occupy my time with meaningful projects. I'll need to find the balance and start swinging with it. That's my goal but I'm not there yet.