Since my diagnosis, many people have remarked on my bravery for being so open with my journey with cancer. It is a very nice thing to say and something that I appreciate because it is a very powerful word, but I don't necessarily feel brave.* I feel that I would be hiding something extremely major in my life if I didn't share what I share, and I won't let cancer force me into hiding. I am still very much here and very much alive (working on the 'well' piece there) so my experience is getting out there.
I have found that reading and hearing about other people's experiences with cancer has been extremely helpful for me, and maybe this blog or some Facebook posts will help someone else at some point. Everyone's experience with cancer is different and highly personalized (I know that I've said that before on this blog), but hearing from others provides great comfort. I've often heard from well-meaning family members and friends "you should talk to [insert name here]." I thought that I would get tired of having those conversations, but I relish them.
I've also turned to social media for support during this time. There are numerous Facebook groups for cancer survivors, and I am a member of 3 of them, one specific to triple negative breast cancer. I am not an active poster in any of the groups, but I like to read other posts and will comment on them occasionally. There is a great big world out there full of people waging their own wars against cancer, and I am glad that we have the tools to find each other.
Others have cited their appreciation for me sharing something so personal with them. I don't feel like I get too personal with details that I share, but I do find that certain words and medical terminology no longer faze me at all so maybe some TMI does slip every once in a while. It's funny how the paradigm shifts after a cancer diagnosis. Words, bodily functions, body parts, and ways of thinking simply change.
There is no real point to this post other than to say that I don't think that I am necessarily any more brave than anyone else. I am putting this out there to help my family and friends better understand where I am right now, and I also put it out there in case anyone else who needs to hear about my experience finds it. I also write this for me. My mind has been quite the interesting place lately, and putting these words down helps me to control my thoughts (some are pretty tough) and to organize my feelings. I think that it will be therapeutic for me to go back and read old posts one day. Maybe not though. At the end of this journey, I may just want to stop coming to this place. We'll see.
I can promise you that I will continue to do everything humanly possible to combat this nasty disease. Everything. I've got big plans with my sweet family that I intend to keep. Maybe that makes me brave, but I think that it just makes me human.
Along the lines of doing everything humanly possible, I am about midway through a book called Surviving "Terminal" Cancer that was sent to me by one of my uncles. I know. The title is super scary. The content, however, is absolutely astounding. The author of the book was diagnosed with the worst of all brain tumors - glioblastoma. It is almost always fatal, and this man was given 12-18 months to live in 1995... He worked tirelessly to find ways to supplement his traditional treatment plan that included chemo, radiation, and surgery. He battled with his medical team, found ways to get supplemental medications to create a cancer fighting "cocktail" as he described it. He credits this work with saving his life. He's a 20-year survivor (almost to the day) after being told that he had 18 months to live, max.
Now I'm not there and pray that I never will be, but reading this book gives me more motivation to work on a "what happens next" plan with my medical team. I know this may seem premature given the fact that I am just beginning treatment, but these things could take time so I am starting now.
I felt pretty dreadful all day today. Very nauseous. I seem to be among the lucky few for which the anti-nausea meds do not work very well. I hopefully only have 1-2 more days until the fog lifts for this cycle and I feel more normal.
*This is not a fish for compliments. I promise.
Thank you for the book referral.
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