Ah...did you forget about me?
Cancer case solved! She's still alive so all must be well? Not so much...they told me 5 years...so stay tuned.
It's been almost 3 years since my diagnosis. I don't really remember who I was before then anymore. I'm approaching my scans on November 3. Not out of the woods yet team.....just hanging on.
If you knew me in the past 3 years....well....you likely got a version of me that was suitable for the day. Or a version that could at least make it through a day. I've been a work in progress....a woman in flux. I've lost my breasts, my hair, my figure, my confidence and a sense of where I belong in this world. I've cried myself to sleep more than I thought I'd ever in a lifetime.
Booze, meds, therapy, exercise, gardening, cooking, overwork, under-work, excuses, reasons, days in bed, days without sleep, days worrying, days trying so hard, days failing spectacularly.
Welcome.....to life after cancer...well, not after...but since.
I don't want your sympathy.
I do appreciate your love and continued support. Those of you who love me unconditionally and understand what a monster I've been and what an angel I am I love you forever. You are my true friends.
I am though... still angry. I have a right to be and goddamn anyone who tells me it's an excuse. It's not an excuse when you get diagnosed with Stage 3 cancer at 42 with two little girls. It's never an excuse. It is a reason.
Having a reason doesn't mean you devolve into an alcoholic, self depreciating, fat monster. I make no excuses for my poor behavior.
It would be easy to see how....from a limited viewpoint one might assume that's the coping mechanism.....to drown the sorrows....
Here's the truth.
This past year, my anti-cancer hormone treatments have kicked in full force. I am grouchy. I have gained weight, I am angry. I drink more, because it relieves the pain......body and soul. Every single day I wake up and take a pill that makes me feel 80, makes my bones ache and makes me grouchy. I am told....I should be grateful that I am alive....
I don't drink so much that I can't maintain my new position at my job, or that I'm not a responsible mom who shows up, who has the conversations, who hosts friends. BUT...I do drink. What would you do???
And I'm raging at you if you judge me. You have no clue. Don't tell me I'm using it as an excuse.... my CANCER. Oh man, come on. Don't tell me I'm hurting myself and my family....that's shit. I'm here. I drive my both my children everyday to school. I converse with parents, teachers and peers. Me being alive is me doing everything I can. You have no fucking clue. I have about zero friends here in Hamilton. No one sees me everyday.
I'm sure I shouldn't drink.....and I don't drink a lot. It's time for everyone to get off their soapboxes and take a look at their own lives. Yes I'm angry. I'm so angry. I'm allowed to live.
Why when someone has cancer do some people feel they all of a sudden become someone who can guide this person to a better way of living?
I am told over and over again I'm lucky to be alive. I should be grateful for the time "I have". I should be thankful for medicine. I should live righteously. Vegan, juice, yoga, affirmations.
Well......
If you can't get where I'm at right now, you never deserved me anywhere I was ever.
Breast cancer is a beast. It eats at your body, then your mind, then your soul. It changes your appearance and your mood, it changes your being. 3 years out...I'm a strange person even to myself....hormones....lack of hormones. Lack of drive, strange thoughts and odd sensations. All meds. All to keep me "alive".
I've been quiet for a while....not blogging...really? What's to say? I thought......
The truth is so MUCH.
We suffer, we change, we lose our identities, our confidence. Women who survive breast cancer and hormonal therapy.
We manage how we can and we find ourselves justifying our actions much more than we should.
We lose confidence, we lose our bodies, our breasts.....goddamn it. I do miss them. I dream I still have them. I feel traumatized having them amputated. I feel unsexy, I feel confused and afraid.
This is where I'm at. 3 years in.
It's no fucking picnic.
Comments