So, I've been meaning to write. Really.
I've been moving on since my last Herceptin treatment on 9/29/17 (Herceptin, part of my chemo cocktail, was pumped into my body every three weeks for an entire year from the very first chemo treatment).
While I've had lots of little itches to blog again, they apparently weren't itchy enough to prod me to actually do anything about it. Part of my reticence for writing has simply been not exactly knowing how to articulate this post-cancer-but-not-quite-myself period. The funky side effects from chemo, gory descriptions of procedures, the very tangible and visceral experiences of
being in the middle of the cancer fight...they all seemed much easier to describe than the nebulous and shifting sands of life after the cancer machine or life on an alien and desolate landscape.
And, the "chemo brain" I've been experiencing hasn't made written expression easy.
So, I'm sitting here in a hospital room for the next six hours--with nothing but some crappy hospital coffee, and this blank white computer screen starting at me. (I'm not here for me, for once, but instead as a licensed foster parent sitting with a kiddo in foster care custody). So, I'm going to give this blog thing a go.
I remember this place. For a year, this hospital was an enormous part of my life--here three to five days a week, with more than a few overnight stays. In the worst parts of treatment, this was the only place I went outside of the house. There's a comfortable familiarity being here. It feels safe and known. The smells, the beeping machines, the hospital-issue recliner with the noisy vinyl (they had the same ones in chemo, except the chemo ones had massage and heat!), the nurses come and going at regular intervals, the standard issue jello, crackers, and juice in the kitchenette.
My cancer team warned me that sometimes life in the months and years after cancer can be more difficult than the period of active treatment. Really? You mean that shit-sandwich of treatment was the easier part? The departure of my hair, all manner of eruptive bodily functions thanks to chemo, the hospitalizations, the days of having to crawl to the bathroom, my taste buds thinking everything I put in my mouth was seasoned with metal shavings? Wouldn't it be smooth-sailing, party-all-the-time, life-is-blissful with all that under the bridge?
Don't get me wrong...I am so incredibly thankful for the outcome. I am cancer-free. THAT is fucking amazing and there isn't a day that goes by that I don't feel amazingly fortunate. And, there were some pretty amazing by-products: a healthier perspective and sense of priorities, an "I can handle whatever comes" attitude, an ability to more quickly let go of anger and other yucky feelings, an acceptance of things I can't control, lessened anxiety, relationships that became deeper and more meaningful, and a handful of new and very dear friends...
But, as I put the miles on in between me and cancer, and the months go by, I find myself in a new and weird phase. Cancer reminds me every day that it had me for a year. My hair hasn't grown back (and probably never will), my brain remains challenged with cognitive functions that were always so easy for me (and that are critical for my job), and I'm still tired a lot of the time. These new battles are in a way more difficult because people just don't get it. When you're bald, and you're puking in a bag, people cut you a break. They don't expect anything. They are supportive and kind But, when it's been a year since treatment and you still aren't yourself, people have moved on and many don't get why you're still not the you you used to be (if you ever will be that person again). And, I struggle sometimes to maintain the lessons and attitude that came from the experience--all those amazing side benefits. Not that I wanted to get cancer, but I did--and for that time, I think I changed for the better in many ways...a much more grown-up, gracious and grounded person...and I don't want that part to slip away like my hair did.
So, I'm going to try to get back to blogging, to articulate the new set of challenges not just for me but for anyone out there who might find it useful. And, so it's not all piss and vinegar, I'm going to use this blog to do a little travel-related writing about my adventures on the "Fuck Cancer! trip to Europe...
Hope you read along with me.