Cancer. I’m against it.
Today is the two year anniversary of my diagnosis and I am acutely aware of the impact metastatic breast cancer has had on my life. All that has been lost. All that has been taken away. All that is different. I’ve been encouraged by friends to be more open and explicitly share the challenges of living with MBC. So on this anniversary, I’m going to give it a try. This level of sharing doesn’t feel natural, but as Dan and my therapist say, it’s probably good for me.
Cancer makes me feel less than myself. Simply put, I just don’t have the physical and emotional energy I used to have.
My cancer scares those who love me.
Cancer removes unadulterated joy. Things just aren’t as fun as they used to be. The cancer cloud hangs over everything. Sure, I can still have fun but things aren’t as light and carefree as they once were.
Cancer has changed my relationships with my husband, friends and family. Dan and I have adopted different roles in our marriage. Friendships feel different with the overlay of cancer. People are more cautious and solicitous around me. Not all bad. Just very different.
Cancer makes the future something I don’t look forward to. How could I? I know that this disease will likely kill me and I know the stories of how other women have died from this disease. It is scary, painful and sad. Imagining my life even three years from now is challenging.
Cancer negatively impacts holidays and special times. Even before a holiday or special event I find myself worrying about what feelings will come up for me. Will I get emotional? Will I compare this event to a similar event pre-cancer? Will this be the last time I get to do or experience something?
Cancer prevents me from trusting my body. Every ache and pain causes alarm. Has the cancer spread? Or, is it just that I’m over 50? If I ignore a new pain am I being stupid and irresponsible? If I act on every new pain am I a hypochondriac?
Nancy Stordahl (@nancyspoint), one of the bloggers I follow, wrote a memoir “Cancer Was Not a Gift and It Didn’t Make Me a Better Person” and I couldn’t agree more. The relentless nature of metastatic breast cancer is exhausting and all consuming. But, I am committed to living as fully as I can for as long I can. I have much to be grateful for in my life overall but today, on the second anniversary of my diagnosis, I am far more sad and mad about how my life has changed.
Cancer. I’m against it.
Thanks for sharing on this day–2 years later. While I can only imagine the difficulties, your works help me understand a lot. The part I most relate to is “having a governor” on joy.
There are periods and events in my life where I’ve had that sense. It completely sucks. And give got it full time. It’s heartbreaking and completely maddening. Sending love and, to the point I’m able, solidarity. ❤️💔
Friend, I blathered into your voice mail today that I don’t know how to mark cancerversary. I told you I have conflicting emotions. On one hand, I am grateful for two years because in the early days of the diagnosis I wasn’t sure we would get two years. On the other hand, I’m angry to be in a place where I am grateful for two years.
But then I read your post and what you shared gave me clarity. There’s no conflict in my emotions. I am just mad and sad too. Don’t get me wrong, I am grateful for every moment of the last 25+ years of friendship and cherish every moment more we have together. But I am mad at the grief and pain cancer has brought into your life. I am saddened by cancer diminishing your joy, changing your relationships, and making you feel less than yourself. I am heartbroken at the losses you’ve experienced and am scared at what the future holds. None of us who love you so much want any of this for you.
I went and read Nancy’s blog posts about the need to change the language around cancer. I appreciate that you shared that resource as it is making me think about how I need to work on honestly communicating about cancer. There’s such a urge to be positive, so as to not make you sad – as if you weren’t already. But that urge to make it seem better than it is masks the honest and hard feelings lying underneath.
So on this second cancerversary, I thank you for pushing yourself to share more than you usually would and I commit to you that I will push myself to be more honest in talking about your cancer. I am continuously grateful for the patience you have with me as I stumble with my own grief as I try to help you carry yours. We will get through this together. I love you. Kristin
Hi Cassie,
I Just had a chance to read this entry. I just want to thank you again for writing this blog. I hope it helps you to put these thoughts and feelings out there. Many of the things you mentioned in this post I can relate to—especially the ability (or lack thereof) to trust one’s body after a cancer diagnosis. I’m sending you a (socially-distanced) hug.
~Jennie E.