Suddenly it's summer

I seem to have missed a season.  Suddenly it's the 4th of July, which normally indicates summer is in full swing. Spring went by in a flash...and now it is HOT in the Midwest.  But loving these days...even the heat and humidity, because I know summer will be gone in a flash as well.

I talked to someone yesterday who is going through chemo and radiation for the first time.  I struggled with whether or not to share my experiences.  In the end I decided not to (he is a coworker, and I would have had far too much explaining to do). Another thing I may live to regret, and another reason to wish I had come clean when I was going through it all.

I'm frustrated with myself for not opening up.  Why is it so much easier with strangers?
I still have a desire to help others, but I may have to branch out from helping those struggling specifically with vaginal cancer; seems our ranks are pretty limited.

Alone among survivors

I recently attended a local American Cancer Society Relay for Life event.  My daughter had joined a team of fellow teenage girls; I thought it was great that they would take this on, so I went to show support (and take pictures of course!) I got to see some of the nurses from my chemo clinic; they had a booth/team there.  I don't think they remembered me, but I stopped to say thanks anyway. Kept thinking it would be nice to have a job that touches people's lives so intimately, profoundly and positively.

I walked around the track, seeing the thousands of lumineria donated in remembrance of friends and loved ones lost to cancer or in support of survivors of this disease that has touched so many.
Listened to personal stories of loss, and of the struggle to make it through treatment over to the other side.  I cried for people I didn't even know...the teenage girl still dealing with the daily pain of missing her dad, the sister of a little girl who has been battling for 3 long years.   An all around moving experience; even the hardest, most cynical hearts would be touched by it.

The last event of the night included a final lap of survivors.  I wanted to be in the group with the purple shirts, celebrating being alive, but instead I was sitting in the bleachers by myself.  As always...on the sidelines afraid of plunging in full force. Started to feel sorry for myself just a little bit.  Why did I have to have vaginal cancer?  A disturbing case with disgusting treatments; something so personal I couldn't share with anyone. I couldn't stand up and talk about surviving. I couldn't even join the massive group of those who had overcome the disease in their own way.  Not for the first time, I wished I had some more socially acceptable type of cancer that one could easily discuss over dinner, or walking around a track with a group of fellow survivors. 

Self pity was short lived.  Hard to feel bad for yourself surrounded by those still fighting, regardless of the type of battle.

A memento I don't have to dust

I have written in the past about wanting to remember what going through a cancer diagnosis and treatment felt like. For some reason I feel obligated to keep it fresh in my memory....mostly because coming out of it alive and well made me so APPRECIATIVE of life.  And of being able to get back to 'normal'.  Thankful for being healthy.  I embraced it even while getting over the harsh impacts of radiation to the pelvis. I was so glad to put it behind me.  Happy to be able to see my daughter grow up, to see my stepkids becoming successful adults and to see their kids grown up, happy to spend time with family and to see things not yet experienced that the world has to offer .  That feeling of being so blessed was almost a narcotic feeling.  Like that warm fuzzy you get from oxycodone.  Who wouldn't want to keep that feeling around, if it were legal and you could still function productively?

Well, I've hit the one year mark a couple months ago and I can feel that warmth starting to seep away.  The routine of every day life is creeping in and taking over.  In a meager effort to ward off the impending (and inevitable?) fading of the memories, I did what any vaginal cancer survivor would do.....I got a tattoo.  Incorporated a dove (sign of peace and of long life) with the teal ribbon. I like it.  Every time I look down at it I will remember that I lived through the challenge.   I'll post a pic once it heals completely.  Oh, and it hurt a lot more than the little radiation tats on my butt :)

Life returns to normal, whatever that is...

Haven't posted for awhile; I'm amazed to see the number of visits to the blog.  Hope some of the visitors have found some reason for hope or humor in their personal journeys.
I'm finding that I'm running out of cancer related things to post.  I've moved on and life is largely getting back to normal.  Doctors visits are now only once every six months, with scans once a year.
I'm feeling better than I have in a long time.  I feel incredibly blessed to have made it to this place. I try to remember that and keep that peace inside of me.  So much of it gets lost in the struggle of day to day life.  We get so caught up in living sometimes that we forget what it means to live.
My heart goes out to those women still out there actively fighting through treatment, or still struggling with the disease and the effects of treatment. I read their stories to remember what it was like. I wish we could all make it through unscathed, and be better for it.

Ten things cancer has given me

I'm starting to think (and blog) in bullet points.  Too much time in powerpoint meetings? Perhaps.
This is where my mind was during a particularly dull one today....

Thank you, cancer experience.  You have brought me:

1) A quicker recognition of simply beautiful things. You can't appreciate spring flowers when you don't feel well or when you are consumed with staying alive. I see them now. I see them immediately and gaze a little longer than I used to.

2) An appreciation for good health.  A return to health makes you appreciate more what you had, then lost--the ability to get through a day without thinking about how crappy you feel or look. I only hope I don't go back to taking it for granted.

3) Empathy for those who have had a much tougher journey than I have.  I want to help those just entering the cancer chaos, but I don't know how to reach them; how to connect or what to say or do. I want to tell them that they will make it through to the other side and that in the year to come they'll be creating their own list, if only in their head.

4) The freedom to not stress about keeping up with friends and family.  Those that truly care are always there...regardless of whether you've talked to them or sent them a text or an email in the last six months. Some of the strongest human connections I have are rekindled fairly infrequently.

5) The opportunity to see how the friends and family referenced above reacted. Still trying not to be bitter in some regards; I'm sure some had good reasons for indifference or avoidance. I hope I can be better than that. It's kind of like going to your own funeral; you get to see who "shows up" for you.

6)  A personal growth experience that I would have missed had I not been diagnosed and gone through the ups and downs (okay mostly downs) of treatment and recovery from treatment.  Some people actually pay life coaches for this kind of stuff .

7) A glimpse into a world of internet connections that I never knew existed. I've "met" women on line who have wonderful stories to tell; women who are marvelously talented writers and are actively sharing their intensely personal tales of cancer diagnosis, treatment, and life.  Yes, life goes on amid it all and it's fascinating to see the sunshine of shifting perspective among survivors and the remarkable optimism of those still struggling to beat it.

8) The ability to put my feet up after a long, tense day and not feel guilty about it.  OK, admittedly still working on this one but I'm clearly not as type A as I used to be....

9) An increased ability to speak professionally.  I have less fear about making my points known; I'm less intimidated by being surrounded by intelligent men. On second thought, this may have more to do with age or hormones (or lack thereof) than cancer. 

10) Menopause. Speaking of hormones...cancer has brought me roughly and abruptly into the "change of life".  Several years sooner than I would have gotten here without the aid of radiation, but what the hey.  I can say I got it over with; one less thing on the great 'to do' list of life.

Hope Springs Eternal

Thankful today for the beauty of spring. Hoping everyone has beautiful flowers out their windows and in their souls.

HRT

Have I mentioned that I love my estrogen replacement patch?  I waited for over a year to take the plunge, but am so thankful now that I did.  Who would have thought that actually being able to sleep all night would have such a positive impact on one's outlook on life :) 

Grateful for having made it to this place.  Thank you Lord and thank you....whoever invented estrogen replacement!