Have you ever wondered what it believed like to have cancer? What physical and emotional hardships come on you, and what is the busting point of sanity? It is depressing thinking about cancer, how it affects a person’s living, and the toll it takes on the relationships around you. Want to take a sneak peek? Below is a window view of my entire life with cancer…
“What will it feel like to have cancer”?
One, It feels like a Tylenol dimensions lump on my left chest. After one week of seeing it, which wasn’t budging, I made an appointment with a community Gynecologist. They didn’t go too seriously; they were more concerned about the dense tissue they found on the right breast… nevertheless listened to me and timetabled a mammogram with an ultrasound as added caution.
Instalment payments on your Trepidation, and what the hell is happening? During the ultrasound, the radiologist came in after reviewing the photographs and conducted her examination, measuring and marking regions of concern. I was told that the biopsy was needed; however, not to worry, 80% of these come back negative. Seeing the blank look on my encounter, the only word from the nurse’s mouth, calcification’s… demand an appt. My instinct said it was something.
Several. When dragged through water on an inner tube, when will the best end? Waiting every week for the biopsy to take place. A new radiologist conducted an ultrasound-guided fine needle biopsy, explaining every step she made. She ‘vacuumed’ 5 samples out of the chest and followed it by simply shooting a metal tagger into the lump (I can not even describe what this kind of feels like, just know that I avoid wishing it on my most severe enemy). I asked to see the examples, having read that if the actual liquid came out clear, it was benign, but if it came back cloudy or weakling, it was surely cancerous. I told her what I experienced read, and she attempted to convince me that it was not true. I wasn’t experiencing confidence as I saw bodies in the samples. A midwife gave me the # to the results. The next 3 nights drag on and on.
4. Some hockey puck hitting this chest from the great David Gretsky. I have Invasive Ductal Carcinoma, less than 1 millimetre in size and a grading involving 4. Can’t breathe, immediately go on autopilot.
5. Demise sentence. Thoughts of in no way seeing my babies graduate, marry and have babies of their adobe flash quickly through my mind.
6. God is screening me. I commented that I couldn’t think a co-worker was quitting the cancer fight and waiting around letting it consume the girl. I said that if it were me, I would be adding everything off my ocean list. After 2009, I’m going no longer think of someone else… you don’t know how you will react if you find out you have cancer. I hope I transferred the “HIS” test!
7. Sleeping disorders. Lying in bed, PT spooning me, cupping the traitor amongst us, staring at the wall trying to fall asleep. Stumbling out of bed, seeing that same damn wall membrane and realizing it was not a dream; it’s my fact. Over and over and over again.
Eight. Losing a body component. When the surgeon had the surgical options, I had been confident in saying, “just take the damn breast”. On the other hand, REHABILITATION couldn’t understand why I had been so calm about dropping a body part.
Nine. Secret. Finding out that I acquired cancer on the eve connected with B’s birthday. Hosting friends and family for the weekend festivities, holding it all, and being “happy”. Maintaining the actual key for PT’s side so they can enjoy the birth of their initial granddaughter.
10. Unthinkable. Finding the courage to tell my son (5th and 8th grade) that Mom has a cancer tumour would change our lives for a while, promising I would end up being okay. All the while keeping our fingers and toes surpassed, hoping I could keep my promise.
11. Foolishness. A wonderful co-worker wanted to throw a note voyage party for the cancerous breast, and I turned the woman down- What the heck have I been thinking? That would already be so much stinking fun!
10. Secondary cancer. Does the become bigger ovarian cyst that is observed before the surgery the main culprit–had cancer already metastasized? Blessed be to God-this was proven false a couple of later–the longest days of playing.
13. Survivor’s guilt. To discover a given a second chance, my very own co-worker was not. My partner and I still credit her for saving my life to this day. During my mastectomy, the woman lost her life to helping kidney cancer that metastasized throughout her physique. Two days after my surgical procedure, I walked into the woman’s funeral and paid our respects to her family.
13. Like a rump roast. I was warned that the blue colouring used to locate the sentinel lymph node would not simply turn my breast azure but also my urine. Was I ever stunned instead to have my significant ole tush turn a nice shade of magenta–if solely it didn’t itch, including hell and didn’t peel from the lemon like a bad sunburn.
18. Squealing like a pig. I put drains coming out of me for three weeks, the goal of getting retrieving less than 30 cc’s for 3 days, right? The first few times the empty was ‘stripped’, I squealed, literally pulling the smooth out of my body. If only they could hook up a few drains so that I could ‘strip’ the fat away from my legs and tush… Hmmm… I could make hundreds of thousands.
16. Like being around the corner of a high school dance holding out to be asked to party. Pathology tests the tumour cells to see what they are reactive to. What makes you more robust cancer cells, ER+, PR+, HER2 or non-e with the above Triple Negative?
Could I have this dance so I can kick your bum?
17. Not enough empathy to get PT. Everyone is worried about my family… who is focusing on his desires… hoping that he is self-assured enough to vent to help his friends without breaking my privacy. I cannot know the angst and difficulty that caregivers must experience.
18. Like trying in the first bra as an adolescent, except this time I need not wonder how big my bosoms will be… I get to decide the size and the look of my breasts. What dimensions are your pleasure???
19. Difficult sense of community. Often the outpouring of cards, meals, and support from people in my life.
20. Claustrophobic. Thirteen high school girls and boys took part in the “Locks connected with Love” event at the graduating high school the day before my initial chemo treatment. It was noticeable the kids were nervous, all their feet twitching a mile a short while, such a brave and supporting thing to do in front of their classmates. Whenever a co-worker’s daughter pointed us out to some other girls’ My spouse and I quickly headed out the area door, trying desperately for you to catch my breath to prevent crying. I later found that the beautiful girl wanted to back (she was nervous and scared to cut her long hair), but when she noticed me, she decided the girl was going forward in my recognize.
My one true repentance of this day… not having the actual courage to be part of the occasion. How do you think the two hundred plus students and teachers might have reacted if I had possessed my hair cut and then shaved for Locks of Love??
Every single word I write can be a seed being planted, patiently waiting to be nurtured and expanded, hoping to heal myself and turn into a better person going forward.
Twenty-one. Scolding. Being told by this first oncologist to stay far away from the internet. It would only mix up my mind with all of the bad information/pessimism floating around. Hello Doc, how will you think I was comfortable and assured coming to see you… I researched the hell out of him.
Twenty-two. Party. We were welcomed with open arms to the first round of chemo. The three-time survivor greeted all of us and gave a very long talk and a goody bag. I was taken aback; she was entering my space; I wanted to hold this a private affair u was in my zone (mentally). Three years later, I can’t tell you one thing this lady preached, but I appreciate your encouragement and sisterhood. I still have every great thing and prayer for a reason, that goody bag.
23. Scientific research project. The systematic technique of the drugs must your body. Steroids and nausea or vomiting pills the day before and after chemo pad the body for the devil to perform its deed. The actual time begins with Benadryl, prednisone, two bags of Taxotere and 2 HUGE syringes of Cytoxan. I was the walking pharmaceutical!!
24. Fireplace. The first round of Taxotere missed its mark ~ burning the vein 6 inches up my forearm. Angry, red, painful to touch. Five months later… nevertheless visible; eight months after it has disappeared, taking the abnormal vein with it.
25. Head from the clouds. I watched many movies, seeing cancerous people puking their guts out and resting in bed. The reality was fogginess so thick that even a lighthouse couldn’t remain visible from my rocking vessel. Treatments were on Sunday; by Sunday, I was about that ship rocking laterally, desperately looking for that gentle. Finally, Tuesdays rolled all-around… fog clearing, lighthouse frontally,
26. Rat on your mind. The appointment with the hairpiece specialist was cancelled; after reading that this was a traumatic/emotional encounter, she would allow me to find a wig for an hour. What? A person means this isn’t a chance to satisfy PT’s wildest fantasy… lengthy hair, short hair… red, brown… oh, the possibilities are limitless. I know this is often emotional, but I choose to make it as fun as possible. Our god bless CB for shedding everything on a Sunday within the hunt for a wig store. And God bless the small oriental lady who most likely thought we were nuts enjoying playing through all of the hair!
Twenty-seven. Mary J. Blige. Determining the wig is not for me; thankful I spent $36 versus the upwards of $2K I might have spent at the area of an expert wig store. Blessed in which HM brought me 12 bandanas, every shade imaginable. Deciding that I am best channelling my ‘biker babe’ image than the Mary T. Blige look. For anyone who is dealing with treatments, I would love to deliver this wig. It is beautiful; it just wasn’t for me. We might have the travelling hair brush, connecting and bonding persons along the way.
28. Irony. Jogging up the stairs at work, experiencing a conversation on the benefits and significance of zodiac symbols, and being required my sign. Mood moving instantly, bright smile drunk on my face saying, “Ironically, I am a cancer”. This little snippet of paradox made me smile all day.
28. Million needles are piercing my scalp, and each locks on my head, weighing a bunch. Two weeks after starting chemo, my hair started to slip off. Two and a half days in the future, the pain and the constant locks balls (leaving presents for anyone is only fun for that long and let’s face the item… very juvenile =) ended up too much; a dear friend will shave my head.
30. Longing game. Waiting for appointments, looking forward to testing results, waiting for existence to feel normal again.
Thirty-one. Sprint. How many miles am I able to walk each day (averaged a few. 5 per day), nominal days off work (got blessed with the timing and a couple of fell on holiday weekends), trying to keep so busy there is no time and energy to breathe. I wish I had believed my boss, who claimed, “Remember, this is a marathon, not a huge sprint”! To wind rear the clock, I would have followed him!!!
32. Weight gain. I have to be the only one that gained weight during chemo. That was supposed to be the one CONSTRUCTIVE from it all… losing weight. Nope, I must have broken an increase by gaining 15 excess fat!
33. Orgasm. The feeling of the shower spray hitting our bald head and wishing to lose myself, never making that stall. Remarkable! This is the only thing My spouse and I miss from losing this hair.
34. Relief. Typically the BRAC1 and BRAC2 innate testing came back negative. Realises my belief that this cancer is pure eco-earned.
35. Regret. The reason why didn’t I have the hospital place in a port? I am running low on veins, the T and C burning rubber right after each treatment… and they do not use my left arm because of the mastectomy.
36. Your favourite cup vase crashes to the floor, shattering into a million items. White blood cells are taking a nosedive too. 07, pushing me personally into isolation. Someone make sure you tell me how a person may feel so good, but the defence mechanisms have shut down.
37. 80-year-old woman. The Neupogen and Neulasta shots to maintain my white blood cells upward make every step. We take sheer torture. The hip and leg bone fragments ache, but I press forward… walking uptown to have breakfast with my cousin and K… even strolling the 6 miles roundtrip to receive this dreaded photo.
38. “You’re Outa Here”. One of the hottest days of the summer months. Umpire had to be dehydrated; cell phone calls were getting worse as the innings lasted longer. Typically the M’s and the D’s egging him, disputing every call-up. PT opens his jaws after we were all told to zip it, and the ump kicks your pet out of the ballpark. Still very funny to this day!! If anyone knows REHABILITATION… a coach… athletic director… trainer, and the most mild-mannered dude I know is getting kicked outside of a ballgame. They are still the most compelling stories around!!!!
39. Bull’s eye marks the spot. Through the treatments, I had fashioned a red bull’s eyesight on my throat. I don’t understand they vocally mimic each other or the reason for it, and they are also self-conscious about it.
40. This heart is breaking. Considering that losing my hair, Udemærket wants nothing to do when camping. I am so freaked out and about by me that he usually avoids this house, such as plague. My heart and soul break or cracks every time B walks far away from me, gives a smart bum response or rolls their eyes. PT told me to provide it time; he would warm up to me. Don’t get me incorrect; I am eternally grateful for the dear friends and neighbours who opened up their homes to him about 4-5 months, it was about B. What was best for me personally was having a son acknowledge me emotionally and actually and not be repulsed by the quiet sight of me. I intended for him to know that I was in the morning, taking the steps and living with hell, hoping to prolong warring and praying to have the possibility to watch his kids expand… my glorious hope to get someday grandchildren!!
41. Normal Water Balloon! I swear for you to God; it felt like I had a water air ball for a breast. The muscle expander is filled with solution and, once tapped, feels like a tight balloon ready to pop. Possibly you have bounced a quarter off of this breast, lol! Thank you, Doctor B, for making the decision personally to replace it with silicone carbamide peroxide gel. Much more natural looking and, in fact, feels real (although the idea still freaks me out and about not having any experience. Contradiction, I know). I’m going to admit, though, that years via now, it would have been hysterical if it had popped. Could you just see it… you are conversing with me, and suddenly, one of my breasts goes smooth as a pancake!
42. Impressive Bolt. Nerves were sliced during the mastectomy. I was advised that they would reconnect and expect shooting aches and pains across the breast and beneath the arm as time passed. The first one took our breath away, and if I got honest… they still do! Ample already!
43. Foolishness. Who in their right mind will stay home alone after treatment and try to paint a master suite and two closets? Immediately after four treatments, I was not in my good imagination. Worst 3 days of playing! The irony is, having no luck finding bedding to fit the robin egg azure walls, I repainted almost everything one year later. The idea of the day: Find your bedding or perhaps material first, then fresh paint your walls. I told you I had developed lost my mind! LOL!
Forty-four. Dry skin. Eyelids usually are red, sore and pulled from old skin. No amount of lotion is soothing. I finally got a new glimpse into what E goes through in a day-to-day time frame. Rough!
45. Relief. I could have lost the hair on my crown, but I kept the item on my arms and legs. Shhh… below, keep another area’s a new secret!
46. Nervous. Everyone who knows Italian recognizes that they have big, bushy brows (think unibrow) that need continual attention. Seeing mine tiny out puts me with an edge that I will soon possibly be drawing them in.
Forty-seven. Surprise! From the woman ending me in the store, towing on her hair, promising that it could grow back… to the unarmed security at a Casino drawing my family into a conversation, making me feel at ease and not the least self-conscious about wearing a vrai in public. They added a huge amount of warmth to my very long days!
48. Scared! I got up from a nightmare, hearing the news that there wasn’t anything scientifically they could do for me. My spouse and I didn’t have much time. Perspiring bullets, checking on the guys, breathing their scent, comforting me eventually.
49. Tropical drink. Gearing up for a ‘Making Strides’ walk in Brentwood, TN, along with having a fellow survivor approach meet me and ask precisely what my cocktail was! Tropical drink… what cocktail? We get to have a passion for walking… cool! Not really!!! I finally realized the girl was talking about my chemo drugs, and the only types having the party and receiving the inevitable buzz were our blood and veins. **On a side note-there several varieties of chemo drugs available on the market. Your type of cancer and cell characteristics will evaluate if you are given one or more medicines during treatment. What was recommended for me, Taxotere and Cytoxan may not be regarding you the next person. Cancer tissue is a very tricky little demon. **
50. Hives, then one large Ass! After this third treatment, and on this birthday, no less, I came up down with a nasty event of hives. The oncologist considers it a reaction to typically the Taxotere, and they would have to keep track of the next dose to ensure that it attacked my lungs. I would prefer to believe it was all the excellent food I ate… barbequed sausage with peppers, onions and mushrooms, my favourite spud salad made by my Mom, sharp corn on the cob along with a store-bought cake (ok… typically the cake was awful, found themselves in the trash… but a female should not have to make what she cake… right! ). Let’s not forget the fantastic chocolate cake that KILOS surprised me with in B’s baseball game. Since it was yummy! I have no clue what caused it; nevertheless, I had remaining hives in the palms and feet per week later. Still, I chuckled out loud when the nurse mentioned, “and you thought your ass was going to get large from all the cake anyone ate; it’s going to get bigger via all the steroids we are gonna put you on”!
51. WTF! I can learn I have cancers over the phone but need to shell out a $40 copay to learn my colonoscopy has been found beautifully, and my intestines are very healthy. I still have not necessarily gotten over that injustice!
52. Mouth Rot. Typically the chemo is sucking every one of the moisture from my jaws. Two large bumps possess camp on the back side of my tongue and appear to be there for the long haul, and to help make it worse, everything preferences like metal. So why am I not constantly feeding my encounter?
53. Fatigue. Therefore, I am tired of being strong for everybody, bottling my emotions, placing one foot in front of another, and keeping the family schedule ‘normal’. I wish someone (other when compared with my favourite husband), anyone, would likely just have the courage for you to wrap me in their biceps and triceps and let me release the many pent-up emotions swirling by way of my body.
54. Invasion. My friend was a trooper, making quite a few trips down to care for the boys and us. I know the travel and worry needed a toll on her. Actual arrival came on a Friday following a treatment. Shame performing tricks on me ~loving that she is there, although wanting to scream because jane is invading my territory or any I crave is privacy.
55. Bonus. It was a new scorcher (similar to our recent summer), and I had loads of frizzy, curly hair. Being balding meant no stressing regarding it, straightening it only to have the item corkscrew the instant I went outside. Small blessing!
56. Grieving. Farrah Fawcett leaves us, and Michael Jackson becomes most of the attention. She struggled with cancer for 3 years dealing with it every step of the way. I respect her strength and tenacity. Her outcome could be our outcome-I must continue the particular fight.
57. Aversion. I still cannot drink or perhaps eat many of the items taken during the treatments. The oddest thing was I chewed snow constantly before finding out I had developed cancer. Drove PT insane! Now even the thought of snow on my teeth makes me cringe. I prefer my refreshments to be lukewarm and ice-free!
48. Care package & Creativity. My brother-in-law’s ex-sister-in-law (I will give you a minute to be able to wrap your head around that will one) was diagnosed with Period 4 Breast Cancer a few months just before my diagnosis. She started with a blog to keep the woman’s family, and friends informed on her forecast and well-being. I got ahold of this site, Biggity Bloggity Boo(b), and it was our lifeline in my darkest instances. When I found it, My partner and I read it from the jump. Good thing it was a Monday because it was a very late nite. Since then, her amazing cousin and nephew (yep… his / her ex-wife) made me a cotton pillowcase to keep my balding head warm (isn’t the sweetest thing!! ), and Sue and I have become close friends… even living 3, 000 miles away. She possibly has no clue that I regarded her as my rock (or her blog) during this process. If the lady can have the strength and braveness to kick cancer’s butt, I have no justification for feeling sorry for myself. I am so happy I always will finally get to connect with her in November. Woo Hoo!
59. Teenager. I travelled to the local casino with good friends, and they carded my family. Are you kidding me? Not a chance, they weren’t! Biker infant must = youth, nor weren’t they surprised to discover my actual age in the license. Love it!
60. Tempers. Consoling my MIL by contacting companies. Me, consoling her since she is crying on the phone. A problem with this picture, right? I finally told her to get the woman act together, that I necessary happy people in my area, telling me dirty and extremely inappropriate jokes. If the lady couldn’t do that for me, the lady needed to stay away. Sadly, the lady did.
61. Rolling often the Dice. The choices I manufactured to save my life could have upsetting long-term effects on my system. The chemo and the recent cancer drug that I can take for many years could have damaged my very own heart and can lead to leukemia, in addition to uterine cancer, as well as greater blood clots. Very daunting on their own, but combined will make you quake in your boots. Zero regrets. I made your options I made to increase the current odds. If all these possibilities happen in the future, we shall deal with them individually.
62. Wink. I didn’t get the one tattoo on which PT could never claim ‘no’. I couldn’t envision PT having to break what is this great to the boys. “Sorry little ones, Mom died on the table since she needed a nipple” LOL! Instead, my torso is proudly winking by any means of you. BTW… on the 5th birthday… you will be able to get a tattoo somewhere on my human body!
63. Routine. My regimen is methodical. Every few months, I visit with my Oncologist and run countless bodywork (I still wish I had formed that port), and every six months, I head right down to my surgeon for mammograms, ultrasounds, etc. It also discovers me googling every small symptom I have. Sudden fuzzy vision and pressure inside my left eye must be the tumour forming behind this. Aching back… bone malignancy. See where I am going with this particular. Every little lump, bundle and bruise means different things for a cancer patient. For all of us, it is another cancer waiting to be discovered. We fear hearing the words that your malignancy has metastasized.
64. Surprise. Recently receiving the late night information that my tumour tagger was higher than normal. ?t had been a very long month patiently waiting to take the blood test yet again… very thankful the quantities fell back into an acceptable selection. Also very thankful for this team of doctors and staff who have to make individual phone calls (to someone) daily of the week. That is not a position I would want on my cv.
65. Chemo Brain. An incredibly real reality for many among us. I a disorganized, confused, and having a hard time paying attention and staying on task (trying to multi-task = instantaneous anxiety), forgetting people’s labels that I have known once and for all. BTW-please forgives me for that last one. Keep in mind that I don’t really like you, it kills me personally when it happens, and you may get a blank look in my eye… I promise I am simmering over it after the fact. Scared to open my mouth since the words I am searching for usually do not come, or I say something inane or away subject. Tough one to digest, and praying for it to help fade soon!
66. The middle of life crisis. “You will be in remission; go home… get on with your personal life”! Huh, how do I make it happen? That simple statement sent my family into a downward spiral that I could hardly pull myself out of. Maybe they should give us a step-by-step guide on how to go from fighting for your lifetime to enjoying your life. My partner and I wouldn’t have wasted 36 months of my life trying to decipher it all out. If only it could be already as easy as going out and buying any sports car!
Cancer has a deal with ~MINE and a hand that my husband hopefully still likes to hold.
I am ashamed to state that before 2009, tumour freaked me out, equating it to an instant death sentence. I no longer consider this…
Does this finally suggest that there are grown up at the age of 44?
Read also: The way to Get Rid of Blackheads Forever