Real Talk Tuesday

Real talk Tuesday.

In 2012 I started a journey. I worked really hard to not be overweight. I worked really hard to be able to run half marathons, and do a 5k a few times a week to help maintain a healthy weight. I worked really hard to not be the person who made jokes to hide behind being uncomfortable in my body. I worked really hard to gain a balanced mindset of not being completely obsessed with food, yet being mindful of what’s going in and how it’s burned as fuel. I worked really hard to be comfortable in my own skin. Not skinny, but strong. I worked really hard to be physically and mentally strong. I worked hard to not size up a room to see if I was the biggest person there. I worked really hard to not feel judged for treating myself once a week. I worked really hard.

I went from running half marathons to......

Wearing long tops, black leggings, and layers-mostly to hide any leaks from my Depends. Oh and carrying more weight on my body and IN the giant bag with all the Depends and a change of clothes.

Cancer has taken a lot from me. However, I am bound and determined that it will NOT permanently derail the mindset I worked so hard to overcome. I am 37lbs heavier than I was when I first walked into the oncology office. NONE of my old clothes fit. I am heavy and tired. If I’m honest, sometimes I am tempted to give up-to feel sorry for myself and just sit down permanently.

When you think of cancer you think of someone bald, gaunt, and puking. THANKFULLY this was NOT me. Except for the puking. There was some puking but mainly heartburn and constipation from the pit of hell. I got through treatment with minimal weight gain-I mean I was really bloated from medication but felt like it was manageable and that I would be back to myself in no time.

Fast forward to after treatment, I was working really hard to get back to feeling like me again. The fatigue was so intense that it was a constant struggle to stay active and continue normal day to day activities. BUT I started working with an oncology trained nutritionist and making head way learning what was best for my post cancer body.  About the time I started gaining some momentum, I found out I still had cancer and needed surgery. The radical hysterectomy left my hormones jacked up and my body in a state of “woah” it had not had before. THEN, I had the abscess and THEN the fistula developed. Final result...my body is a mess. And guess what? Friday...like three days from now...I have another surgery. My stomach will be opened yet AGAIN and this time my leg is going to be messed up for a while since they are grafting tissue. <sigh>

I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking what I keep trying to tell myself. YOU ARE ALIVE. All of the above. All of it. It had to happen in order for me to live. However, it doesn’t make it any easier to deal with, when you’re in the midst of this battle for your mind. What I mean by that is that I feel like there is a constant battle for “how” I talk to myself. Yes, I realize that I am alive and here. The last thing I want to do is minimize that miracle. However, if I’m being real-being in my body right now is hard. It doesn’t look or feel the way it did before cancer and menopause. I had never experienced feeling like the vessel I’m in, isn’t me... until now. However, if I really think about it-it is very much me. It is where I am right now. It is what I have right now.

Cancer left me with a vessel that feels broken down, heavy, and tired. It’s going to get a little worse before it gets better, but it’s going to get better. There is a plan forward.

Had to document what I hope to be my last purchase of Depends for a LOOONG time!!

FORWARD!!!

Lessons of Winter

Winter can conjure images of staying warm by a cozy fire, snuggled safely with those you love most. You can also imagine one staggering in the bitter cold, trying to find his way while fighting the elements. I wish I could say that this winter had been one of coziness, where my heart found a relaxing peace, where safety was ensured and my chest was able to breathe a giant sigh of relief. It has actually been the exact opposite. However, what I find to be fascinating is this theme that continues to play itself out in my journey, and that is-the “place” that I seek to find after cancer, this place of relief and safety, it doesn’t exist. It never really did. Since this is an idea, rather than an actual place that we arrive in our lives-how do we sanely carry on?

I went back to work in early November thinking it was the beginning of getting back to myself. 2016 had looked like port surgery, chemotherapy, radiation, five internal radiation treatments, and finally a radical hysterectomy to remove remaining recurrent cancer. Surely, although slow, recovery had begun. I started to denounce the comments of “I bet you’re just ready to get this behind you and get back to normal.” Cancer had been gigantic. Yes, I did want to get it behind me, but I had started to come to terms with there being a “new normal,” as nothing about my body or thought life was “normal” or the way it used to be.

One week into work, I started feeling terrible. I had pain that continued to get worse and the fatigue was so drastic that I was literally bed ridden. After weeks of trying to figure out what was going on, a pelvic CT revealed I had an abscess. I was hospitalized for several days to get the infection under control, and was eventually sent home on IVs and rest. This was a setback, but I was still on my way to recovering.

A day after being home, I started having incontinence issues. SURELY this was not what I thought it was. My OB/GYN oncologist and I had discussed the risk of fistulas from day one of knowing I needed surgery, but I had had both an in office fistula test and a cystogram at the hospital. Both of them were negative. This had to be something else.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t. I went in for an exam and another in office test and my doctor did not even have to complete the test before the fistula presented itself. It was bad. It was large and evident that surgery would the only way to “hopefully” repair the pathway. It was going to be a slow process, since I had been exposed to so much radiation. Rushing me off into surgery was not going to fix this. I was going to have to live with this for a while.

I cried. I cried a lot. I just couldn’t believe this was happening to me. Why? Why wouldn’t cancer and it’s stupid side effects go away? Hadn’t I done everything I was supposed to? Even mentally, hadn’t I done the thing survivors are supposed to do-accept the new normal? Hadn’t I already accepted that I had permanent ringing in my ears from chemo, a damaged vagina, 38 and in menopause, infertility, and that my body had just been through hell and back in order for me to be alive? NOW I was 38 and in Depends too?

The first two weeks of this, I mostly sat. I sat at home waiting for my next round of IVs and in an adult diaper. I didn’t want to do anything or go anywhere. However, soon my body started to feel better. I could tell the drugs were working on the abscess and physically I was feeling good. I was still in a diaper, but I felt better than I had in months. Now what? Here I was better, but still with this GIGANTIC issue and waiting for surgery. I felt like everywhere I turned, it was a fight both physically and mentally. I wrestled a lot with what I was going to do with this. I felt the unfairness of this life and the ugly truth of what cancer and treatment had done to my body.

One day, I can’t pinpoint the exact day, but I remember hearing my oncologist's words in my head, "Holly this happened because I had to perform a surgery to save your life. You still had cancer and without your hysterectomy you would have only lived maybe three more years. You have every right to be mad at this and angry, but you are alive and can get through this or whatever is next." I heard her words, that I hadn't thought about in weeks, and I decided to get up. I had to keep on fighting. I was missing out on life. I was CHOOSING to hold myself back. I couldn’t sit any longer. Was going about normal activities going to be difficult? Sure it was. Was I possibly going to have an accident on myself while shopping? Yep. Was it going to be uncomfortable and somewhat stressful feeling like people could smell me or know I was wearing a diaper? Oh yeah!

But I wanted to LIVE.

I honestly have felt like the past 12 months have been winter-the picture where I am fighting the elements. It has been one thing after another. Fight after fight. This last experience has shown me that there really is no true safe place that we arrive, where life is easy. There will be seasons that are better than others, and I pray that I am on the cusp of one of those. BUT there really is no place that is completely out of the harshness of the elements. Not for anyone. It is a choice that we must make. For me, I am in a season where I must choose life daily. I must choose happiness instead of bitterness, contentment over self pity, the positive over the negative, bravery over fear. Some days, some moments, I fail at this miserably. And when I do, I wipe myself off, dry up the tears(and there are many), and get back up because I am alive. It may be winter, but I want to live.

Craig Sager speaks on choosing hope, seeing his cup half full, and the fight!

*I designed a shirt, to bring awareness to cervical cancer and to help raise money to cover the expenses of this past year and the surgery to come. The campaign is live on Bonfire until February 20th. Check it out!

www.bonfire.com/start-the-conversation/