Cancer Free!

Disclosure: I’m coming out of a “Benadryl coma” as I write this. More on that later. Have fun decoding my typos and following my train of thought. I tried to proofread it.

There’s so much to write about this past week and I will be sure to journal about it all. But for right now, I’m digging deep, finding my courage, so healing can happen. Thank you, Heather, for helping me find my courage and going deep.

Tuesday, August 6th

Today, I had my 2nd follow up with plastic surgeon. I’m not feeling well at all. My body is exhausted. I’ve developed a rash that burns and itches and keeps me up a night. My bowels are wanting to poop, but my poop is as solid as a concrete wall and that pisses my hemorrhoids off. I was up late Monday night, trying to give birth to a square concrete wall out of a circle hole, which I finally accomplished, with little to show for. I was then up nurturing my hemorrhoids. So by the time my 10:45am appointment came on Tuesday, I was exhausted. My nurse described me as bushy tail and wide eyed when I saw her the day after surgery, today, she had no comments. Especially when I asked her if she had any gauze for me to use, because the bathroom toilet paper was too scratchy! They told me to continue to take Benadryl to help with my rash, so I subbed my drowsy pain killers for drowsy itch relief. And in my opinion, I rather have the loopiness from my pain killers, than the loopiness I get from Benadryl. I’ve been in what I call a “Benadryl coma” since Monday. 

Back to Tuesday. We (my mom and I) left my appointment. We are sitting in the car and I realized I have a missed call from Texas Oncology with no voicemail. Then I noticed a text message from Antonio saying “Dr. Hellerstadt wants to see you Friday morning at 7:30am and maybe tomorrow afternoon if they get the final report from pathology.” My heart dropped. Dr. Hellerstadt is my medical oncologist. She was not supposed to call me with the results, my oncology surgeon is supposed to. In my mind, Dr. Hellerstadt gets involved when your cancer becomes invasive, when you need chemo therapy. At that moment in time, I cried. My mom told me not to jump to conclusions, but that made me feel even more upset because Dr. Hellerstadt was not part of the plan. I called Antonio crying. He tried to calm me down as well, saying Dr. Hellerstadt is part of the plan, she is the QB of this operation, it is okay. But his words did not ground me. My mom and I drove home in a very intense awkward silence, as I drifted away thinking my cancer had become invasive and I will have to do chemo. In that small 20 minutes of time, my mind had created it’s own plot to a new movie where yet another parent dies from cancer - this time, I was the parent. I finally couldn’t take my story writing anymore and decided to message my surgeon - she gave me her cell number and said I could call her anytime. So I was about to take her up on her offer. Then as I grab my phone to text her, my phone rings. I pick it up not knowing who it was, it was Dr. Sprunt (my surgeon oncologist)! She sounded cheerful on the other end (not the way doctors typically sound when they are about to give you bad news). The first thing I said to her was, “wow, I was just about to call you.” Of course she wanted to know why, so I told her. And then she interrupted me and told me, “you’re cancer free.” I didn’t hear anything else she said past that. But I did ask her, then why did Dr. Hellerdstate office call and wanting to schedule an appointment so quickly and she said, “reports just got released and it’s her job to review the reports with you as well.” I’m thinking to myself, “why didn’t you tell me she was going to call me too?!?!”  

So in one hours time, I went from complete exhaustion from just being in recovery mode, to thinking I was going to dye from cancer (thank you irrational thoughts), to being cancer free.  What a ride!!!! I texted Antonio immediately and then my family, “I’m cancer freeeeeeeeeee!” Without them knowing moments before where I was mentally. 

Ahhh, so now I’m cancer free!!!! 

But yet, I don’t feel cancer free. I feel damaged and exhausted. I feel worst now than when I had cancer.  Why do I feel this way? I should be care free, dancing, and laughing. But instead, I’m immobile, and in pain. Half my body is gone. My chest is left with two huge incisions. I have drains hanging out of me. I can’t even lift my arms to hug Antonio to celebrate being cancer free. I feel groggy and the things I should care about, I don’t. Why does being cancer free feel so miserable?

My eye caught the card Heather gave me (picture above).

Dig deep. Monday was a hard day. I was tired, itchy, haven’t pooped, not at all independent, how am I supposed to do this again? At that time, we didn’t know the results of my pathology reports, so I kept trying to dig deep to find my courage within to heal, while asking “how?”  Now that I know I’m cancer free, it gives me more momentum to persevere. As I read her quote tonight, I realize finding my courage deep within, meant journaling again. Allowing my worst fear to metabolize through my body, to release it. Documenting how exhausted I am so in two days or two weeks from now, I can see the growth that I’ve made. That healing is happening. 

Right now, I’m comparing my cancer to a hurricane (thank you hurricane Baryl). The eye of the storm has left, and now we are in clean up mode - gotta clean up all the damage. Cancer has damaged my body, a near impossible concept to grasp, as I lay here breast less, wondering if this is all a dream. You never imagine yourself to be a the face of a Go Fund Me, but here I am. You never imagine sending your child to therapy because you have cancer, but here I am. You never imagine one of your best friends bathing you in the shower, but here I am. You never imagine any of this. And to think, I have the best case scenario cancer. How in the hell do people do this with other forms of cancer? I guess they dig deep too for their courage and count on their community to help them as well. I don’t want to minimize or maximize my experience to another, all I know is this is all moving too fast for the mind to keep up with. You have cancer, now you are cancer free. Your body is fine, to now your body is damaged. What would have happened if we didn’t catch it so early? What would have happened if I didn’t go in for my 40 year old sceener? It’s all so hard to comprehend.

So I lay here tonight, crying with relief that I am cancer free, crying that my body is damage, crying just trying to comprehend that all of this is even happening, and searching for the courage to keep on going with the clean up crew.

I know deep down my body is not damaged, but that is how it feels right now - damaged and fragile. Do I have the strength to rebuild? Today I feel tired and worn out, but I know with time, I will feel strength and energy to rebuild. But for now, I sleep. and I cry. That’s my inner courage healing. Thank you, Heather Muriel, who is Grammy’s kindred spirit!