Read Me After Chemo & Love is A Cheese Grater

"It must be unimaginable dealing with cancer, but we all have things going on in our lives."

Yep! That might be the winning comment from 2024 that sums up what it feels like to be post-chemo, post-radiation and post- amputation. Certain people, I guess, are tired of me having a chronic, terminal illness. 

Said in my most sarcastic tone: OH REALLY? Other people have lives!?! I live with five young humans that definitely show me that other people have things going on. I hold a lot of space for other people's feelings and events and concerns, and honestly, that is a huge part of my identity and my connection. I love hearing about what is going on with my dearest friends and family ... But here's the thing. I will hold infinite amount of space for you if you can do the same for me. I don't even ask for an infinite amount, how about you just listen when I am clear and concise in the things that I need and what hurts me. 

Another issue I had this year was beginning to learn to protect myself from negative energy. I am sometimes barely holding on to my own positive perspective of the future. I am looking at my mortality closely. I am living in a body that has betrayed me and I can only hope it continues to work for years to come. And I have had a few people continue to say things like "Getting old is a b$tch" after me asking them to not say it. Getting old is a gift, from my perspective. 

Anyone that actually talked to me during a year of treatment (some could only muster a text or two), knows that I could and can talk about most anything. You're having work issues? Talk to me about it! Feeling stressed? Yes, I'm sure you are. Problems with being a parent and balancing it all? I know! I'm not going to respond with "at least you don't have cancer" because I'm not 12 and I wouldn't wish this on anyone. 

But if you clap back from my legitimate feelings with "you shouldn't feel that way" or "you need too much attention" - you are not worth my empathy or energy. If I tell you I am deeply fearful of dying young, don't tell me that it's not true. If I tell you it's hurtful to joke about a character in a movie dying in hospice... You don't get to tell me I'm overreacting by being offended. I'm the one sitting in waiting rooms at the breast clinic, hearing women debate hospice with their caregivers. I'll tell you once, but I'm not wasting any more energy than that. The only people that I'm responsible for are my children: it's not my weight to carry for other adults that lack communication skills or functional empathy. 

That's what so many cancer survivors need to read after chemo: how to DO and manage the after, when so many people are unwilling to listen to what your new reality looks like. It's not funny and it's more stressful than facing a chemo infusion. The side effects are not as visible as a bald head or scars left from cutting out all of your breast tissue. The sore, tingling muscles and fingertips. The major anxiety associated with every "normal" ache. 

Our brains are wired to focus on the negative, unfortunately. We do this to keep a watchful eye on situations and people that are unsafe. So a few mean apples have gotten more attention than they should. I should be focusing on the good, generous, kind people in my world. The reminders are everywhere, if I just look. Love has been expressed to me in so many unique ways. 

Love is a cheese grater. Sent to me because I said I shouldn't be eating pre-shredded cheese from the grocery store. Love is my Muppet mug that I carry to work every morning - sometimes with the herbal tea my friend picked out for me. Love is the "Sweary Motivational Quotes" coloring book that reminds me that You can F#CKING do this. 

Love is the basket of blankets made and mailed to our house. Love is my Mr Rogers talking toy. Love is the homemade jam from Chicago or the ice mask and pens sent from Australia. Love is breast cancer awareness socks and pajamas made to hold the God-awful drains after surgery. Love is a bundle of "get better soon" cards from my students, covered in stickers.

Love is gift cards for easy dinners. Love is a Golden ticket hidden in a chocolate bar. Love is a big Kool-Aid man t-shirt. Love is puzzles and late night texts and a friend who will walk with you in the woods. Love is taking time off of work to hang out on the couch. Love is hosting a "hat party". Love is healing stones and driving to cancer rejuvenation events together. Love is Googling "how can I help". Love is showing my immediate family that you think about them too. 

This post see-sawed between the awful and the beautiful. And isn't that what we are all experiencing? Everything. Everywhere. All at once. Because I have no choice but to move forward, whether my body complies or not. Whether I'm ready or not. 

Access Road Closed

Next to my bed, I have a Daily Zen journal. In the bathroom, I have a book about joy - with interviews of the Dalai Lama and Desmond Tutu. I try to meditate every day and find the Buddhist idea of unattachment interesting. I do not know how exactly to put most of these ideas into practice. 

Having attachments to a certain outcome or idea has only ever gotten me into trouble or into a place of disappointment. I'm learning the difference between *hoping* for something while accepting that reality may be different. 

For the bulk of the last year, this blog has been dedicated to sharing my medical information and updates. I appreciated the outpouring of love from friends and family - part of my goal was to keep everyone updated and part was that I needed to process my own feelings. I also hoped that I could share information that would help the next person who got sick. I thought knowledge and transparency about cancer would be useful. 

My life since active treatment hasn't really gone as expected. There have been some instances of sharing what I needed emotionally that have gone quite badly. I think this speaks to the depth of what some people are willing to offer. It's relatively easier to send a wig or meal to someone during chemotherapy (and I don't mean to discount that generosity) than it is to meet someone in an uncomfortable emotional place. I have to let go of these damn expectations or attachment to the idea that others can be with me where I am right now. 

I know this isn't an airport and I don't need to announce my departure - but my instinct is telling me that now my writing and my processing needs to be more personal. I don't owe anyone more access to my vulnerable thoughts or feelings. I'm happy to share one on one - but I need to close the protective shield a little tighter. 

When coming out of the role of patient and back into role of human being just trying to live a life, I've realized how much privacy I lost. I couldn't control who saw me bald. I couldn't control what I ate or what medicine I had to take. (I still can't control that.) I needed to ask for support for over a year for my family's sake and I haven't had the greatest experiences with people giving help without immense expectations in return. 

Some of that vulnerability deepened friendships and I was pleasantly surprised by what it did to relationships that I had no expectations of. (That's the full circle - without expectation, things could flourish!) It's the people that had expectations from me, while at the same time, not living up to those same ideals... That I just can't do it anymore. I do not like people demanding access to my inner world or closeness from me. Key word is demanding. 

I know "boundaries" is a buzz word that makes some people roll their eyes at the concept. I didn't really understand what they meant, and am still learning how to express them. Boundaries are more about me than about what other people do. I've found that boundaries can be easily accepted or rage inducing... All depends on who you ask. 

I didn't think it would feel this way, but after having all of my business shared and me being a willing part of sharing it... I need to close up the cancer talk shop. If you want to ask me how it's going, I'm happy to talk one on one. If I can support you, I'm happy to share what I know. But after being criticized for needing too much attention or not getting over it fast enough... I will preserve my privacy (and boundaries) better than I did before. 

Signing off, in the spirit of healing and accepting things as they are. 

Saying Goodbye.. why is it sad?

I never disliked back to school time - yes, summer is over but it wouldn't be a special time if it lasted forever. From the end of June to August, we are blissfully activity free and we usually eat dinner at 8 pm or after the sun has set and kids have spent plenty of time outside.

But...

 I really love buying school supplies and I used to organize a pretend classroom for my stuffed animals when I was little. I like school, I like that my kids go to school and this year I'm returning to teaching. I like structure and being alone in my house every once in awhile. 

We haven't sent the youngest kids back to school yet (one week to go) - but the entire family packed up our oldest and delivered them to college. We cried our way through June and graduation season, cried our way through a graduation party and knew this pesky move in date was coming... But it still snuck up on us. 

On Wednesday, we drove to Buffalo State and unpacked all the things - including an 18 year old person. It's so strange to feel 17 inside and now be the embarrassing parent who wants to wear a bright orange Buff State Mom shirt all of the time. I'm remembering what it was like to move into a new place, sharing quite a small space with strangers but also making some of the best friends you'll ever have! I have confidence that my kids will be more successful in academics than I was at the start of college... But that's another story why I was a hot mess at that age. 

And in true Muppet fashion, I always think of the song "Saying Goodbye" from The Muppets Take Manhattan when I'm going through something sad that I also know is temporary. Moving is hard, the unknown is hard, stress is hard, working towards a goal is hard. 

So while our whole family of seven was hugging and drying our eyes... A group of college students walked in a said, "Awww, how far away do you all live?" Ummm, 20 minutes. It's 20 minutes away and we are literally coming back tomorrow because of a scheduled dental visit. 😜 

The kid looked at us like we were bonkers... And I'm ok with that! Cheers to college and back to school, whether you want to go or not. Cheers to all of the other families that cry openly about any type of change. And cheers to the Muppets for giving me a soundtrack to last me all of my days.