3 BIG Things I’ve Learned from Having Cancer
Three years ago, today, I sat in my office praying that time would go by faster so I could hurry off to be by my best friend’s side as we mourned the loss of her mother who had died only days earlier. My day wa quickly turned upside down when I received a call that still to this day, brings me to my knees.
Cancer.
It’s just a single word, yet the weight it carries is as large as the universe. The day before, on Valentine’s Day, I had undergone a biopsy on my left breast to help identify some questionable areas that had been found during a mammogram the week before. My sister had been diagnosed with breast cancer only months earlier, so I believed the doctors were airing on the side of caution, and they pushed for further testing after it was determined that I, too, had the BCRA gene. The BCRA gene typically met that a higher likelihood of certain cancers were possible for the individual who carried the gene. There was no way, in my mind, that I could also be diagnosed with cancer, right?
Wrong.
As the tender age of 32, my twin sister and I had both been diagnosed with breast cancer only months apart. Suddenly, my world spun before me. How serious was it? Would be I around to watch my kids grow up? Would my husband be a widower shy of 40? This thinking might seem dramatic or irrational, but in that moment, I didn’t care as much about my own well-being as I did that of my family. I sat, numb to the doctor’s words as they described the next steps on this journey, in disbelief. As soon as the call ended, I texted my husband who was at work: “I have cancer.” I didn’t know what else to say. He simply responded “fuck”. My wonderful boss at the time basically kicked me out for the day, bless her heart, so I could process the news. I didn’t have much time to process, however; because I was determined to be there for my best friend when she needed me the most.
Fast forward 3 years. I’ve undergone 3 or 4 surgeries; I honestly can’t even remember. I have scars and numbness still from the surgeries, but I’m here. Fortunately, my cancer was caught early enough that I didn’t need chemotherapy or radiation. I had gotten extremely lucky.
Cancer has taught me lessons that otherwise might have taken a lifetime for me to experience, and for that I am grateful. Thanks for my fight with cancer, I now know that:
Learn to Rest
I am someone who rarely rests. There is not a day that passes where I am not cleaning something, and a morning doesn’t fly by without my bed being neatly made. When I found out I had Cancer, I had to learn to rest. Resting is not something I’m good at. Rather I’m terrible at resting. I’m always “go go go” and in the mindset that there is always something more important to be done instead of sitting on the coach to catch my breath. Cancer forced me into resting. It was difficult, humbling and also amazing. After my first surgery, a double mastectomy, and the subsequent surgeries that followed, I got better at resting. Now, because of Cancer, I let things get messy from time to time. I sit down on the coach, wrap myself in a warm blanket and lose myself in the latest bestselling thriller. Cancer gave me something amazing. Cancer forced me into resting, and I’m so thankful for that. I’ve come to realize that sweating the small stuff is something I shouldn’t continue waiting energy on. I need that energy to be a momma to my boys, to be wife to my husband and to focusing on my health. Although I still start my day by making my bed, I do leave dishes in the sink on occasion and messes in the home. Also, I have kids. Boys at that, so my house is always some form of organized chaos.
Don’t Internalize Your Journey or Downplay It
When I first was diagnosed, I downsized my journey with cancer. I was constantly comparing my journey with that of my sisters. Her cancer was worse, and she’d go on to undergo chemotherapy and radiation which resulted in burns, hair loss and weight gain. For as long as I can remember, I always have put others before myself, and this situation was no different. I internalized and downplayed my journey making those around me believe that I was OK. “It’s just surgery” I’d say. “It’s not chemotherapy.” But deep down inside, I wasn’t. I was angry. I was scared. I hurt. Following each surgery, I fell out of love with a body I had worked so hard for. I resented the scars. I resented the fact that I would always have them and how I looked different. I quickly understood how dangerous these feelings were, and I started confiding in those I could trust. I opened up them, pouring my heart out sharing my fears. I started running. Running was the way I coped with it all. It took years, and I’m still working on it today, to not internalize my journey. I still struggle with that. You’ll hear me downplay the situation because I don’t feel like my journey is worth the worry from others. Others have had far worse journeys, but I’m reminded that my journey was and still is a difficult one. I’m growing here, but this is a piece of advice everyone can take away from my journey. Open up about your thoughts. Don’t internalize it. People want to listen; they just want the greenlight from you saying it’s OK. Give them the greenlight. More importantly, give yourself the greenlight.
