When I was diagnosed with breast cancer and told that the largest part of 2022 would be devoted to chemotherapy and then surgery, I told myself—and anyone who would listen—that 2022 was going to be the best year of my life. Spoiler alert: it wasn’t.
Having no recent experience with friends or family members going through cancer treatment, I was somewhat naive. No, let’s face it. I was an idiot.
I had two major misconceptions about the process. I knew it was tough but:
1) I thought I would get chemo, feel horrible for a few days and then take off to visit friends, return to chemo, feel horrible, go visit friends . . . . You know, as the shampoo bottle says, lather, rinse, repeat. That is not how chemo worked for me.
2) I thought I would do my five months and the experience would be over. It was not.
As many of you know, cancer is what brings us to the doctor’s office but, for many of us, it is the side effects of the drugs that keep us coming back.
I have found myself disabled in a variety of ways for two solid years. I should have been out and about months ago but, although my cancer responded well to the treatment, my body did not. It has been a long haul. I have declared my period of physical limitations over before and found I was mistaken. Nonetheless, as I approach the two year anniversary of my diagnosis, I am declaring my restricted lifestyle over once again.
I feel silly complaining because I realize many have worse side-effects for a much longer time—all the while trying to maintain a full-time job and raise a family. The timing was lucky for me. I just had to worry about myself.
People often ask what I learned from a bout with cancer. My standard reply is I discovered that either I have an incredibly positive attitude or I am the dumbest person on earth. Possibly both. Turns out I am an optimist. No one was more surprised than I was.
Maybe I am more of a pragmatist than an optimist. Many people have grown to hate the phrase “it is what it is.” But you know what? It is what it is. I don’t think about cancer very often. I am forced to think about the treatment.
Anti-cancer drugs inflict indignities on a body that I could not have imagined but don’t ask me to list them. As the side-effects fade from my body, they also fade from my memory. Turns out there is a whole world out there beyond the hospital grounds.
I saw an old New Yorker cartoon where the doctor tells the patient that, excuse the paraphrase, I can cure your back problem but you might find yourself with nothing to talk about. I can’t wait.
As I approach my two year anniversary, I will try to record some more thoughts. With any luck, I will be able to look back at my notes with surprise. All that happened? It was so long ago, I barely remember.
© 2024 Jane Kelly
Jane I had many awful treatments for my eye cancer that I barely remember all of them. For sure I don’t remember what year it was. I just keep forgetting as much of that tune as possible. I came through it and that cancer is long gone (lots of new ones though). I think forgetting is good. Happy anniversary! ❤️
ReplyDeleteThank you for sharing. Happy two-year anniversary! We continue to get stronger and bravo you.
ReplyDeleteYou were a great role model the way you handled an incredibly tough few years. Thank YOU.
DeleteI’m so pleased that your journey has brought you to a happier place presently and with a good prognosis. You got to ring the bell!🔔 . A cancer patient’s goal. There’s no question, being told you have cancer changes one’s life completely. I’ve discovered 2 and sometimes 3 voices in my head. The positive “it is what it is” voice; “”one day at a time”. The decision voice…”if I choose the Bone Marrow Transplant, I’m told I will be very sick for at least 6 months and a 50/50 chance it will take and another possibly of dying from the BMT. But if it works, my chances of living another year are 29%. If I don’t get the BMT, I would continue out patient IV chemo (which the side effects are only nausea and fatigue) 7 days every 28 days and have a good quality of life for maybe 1-2 years. I chose the latter.
ReplyDeleteNow I’m at 15 months and the 3rd voice is really annoying for every little ache and pain I think …maybe this is it! Knowing that at any day the bottom can drop out. Knowing that the final stages of Acute Myeloid Leukemia has many horrible possibilities. Then my other voice says “stop thinking about that elephant that’s in the room and shitting on your carpet”.
So here’s where I am today. I’ve made all my plans, the will, living will, medical legal POA, etc. My most sincere desire is to go fast so my loved ones don’t have to go through hell. 11 States have Compassionate Aid in Dyeing/Death With Dignity Laws but unfortunately Pa does not. In today’s society we have more compassion for animals than humans. As a nurse, I’ve seen everything and I’m just saying….I want the right to choose when my time comes. In the meantime, I make everyday count and as my friends all know, I’m very politically active with my both sons (Joe and Tarik) both democratic candidates who fight for rights of people not fertilized frozen eggs.
My plans for today are to go swimming my usual 40 laps at my local YMCA, then an afternoon walk with my best friend. Tomorrow I’m back at Penn for blood work an another 7 days round of Chemo.
Life is Good 😊 and I enjoy every day.
Pat Khan RN and Yoga Teacher for 27 years