Wednesday, October 17, 2012


I realized something today. I'm still pretty angry over all that has happened. I still haven't accepted it. In fact, I'm downright pissed.

I feel cheated. I feel like my family is being cheated. I'm still dealing with side effects. I'm tired of being tired. I'm tired of abnormal blood tests. I'm tired of talking about the next surgery. I'm tired of doctor's appointments and blood draws and of taking medicines that fix one issue but cause other issues. I'm tired of hormones and of hot flashes. I'm tired of having one boob. I'm tired of having no nipples. I'm tired of my husband having to pick up the slack for me around the house. I'm tired of not being able to always do the things I wish I could. I'm tired of the stiff joints. I'm tired of the sore arm. I'm tired of so much lately. And it's making me angry. 

I wish I could wake up and discover this has all been in fact a bad nightmare. It's not. I know. And eventually I will accept it and the anger will dissipate, but for now, it's there and it's strong.

The hardest part of all of this is I'm often reluctant to share all of this. Instead I stuff down and then wham, one day I unleash on some unlucky victim. Which isn't fair to that person. I know there are some safe people I can share this stuff with. But I've also learned that there are some people I can't share it with. I get it. People are working through their own stuff and may not have room for mine. Some people only have room for the good, the up-lifting, etc. And often, cancer is romanticized, right?

I mean, frankly, wasn't I supposed to get cancer then use that to show me what's truly important in my life, have a huge life changing epiphany and then go out and do some major good in this world with my new-found knowledge, bringing joy and love to everyone I come in contact with.

Or you know, maybe I'm just barely getting through the day and I'm too damn tired to have any epiphanies right now. Or I might not be feeling particular grateful. Or particularly talkative. Or particularly happy. I may even need to vent a little bit. This is my cross to bear. This is something I need to work through.

And I am trying to work through it. I'm trying to not be all doom and gloom. I don't want to be so angry about it all. But at the same time, I also need to balance that with being true to how I am feeling, even when it's not pleasant.


  1. Girl. If not here, then where?

    PLEASE VENT! Please let it all out so that we know you aren't perfect. (Because I love you even more when I know you're not perfect.)

    I think one of the biggest secrets about breast cancer is that once you "beat it", all is as it was before. Knowing that it's an ongoing issue that may never truly be "over" for you makes my heart break and opens my mind to the reality. It's not something we really hear about. Either a woman beats it or loses her life. We don't often hear about the limbo that someone may find themselves in...

    I wish I could make it better for you and send you energy and comfort.

  2. There have been no epiphanies, no sudden realizations that I am somehow better for having had cancer just tests, tests and more tests, and more doctors than I ever imagined being mine.

    Those Cancer Center commercials get to me, an old guy ringing a bell as he leaves his last radiation treatment. As if! It's like a flippin' parade when really it's just a roadmarker on a lifetime time of uncertainty.

    Keep venting, you may think your whining but you're not. Reading blogs and interacting on Twitter and Facebook were how I got through cancer. Just knowing that I wasn't the only one feeling the way that I did helped in immense ways.

    And now, whatever after is the same blogs and Twitters and Facebooks remind me that just because the commercials say it's a parade, it's not.

    Every time one of us writes a blog post or sends a Tweet or posts a Facebook status update we are leaving a trail of breadcrumbs and leaving candles burning so that others who will follow will have an easier time finding their way. (((hugs)))

  3. Please. Complain. Holler and bellow and roar about all the shit you're going through - that your family is going through. Because it ain't fair. You shouldn't have to do this stuff. They shouldn't either. Cancer is a shit and it shouldn't happen to anyone. But it does. And it ain't easy. And to the extent that letting us know about how hard it is can help you, can ease you, can afford you a release like a steam valve on a pressure cooker, you just go ahead and do it. And the next time any of us sees you, there will be gentle hugs offered to let you know we care a great deal - we feel you - and we wish we could help.


  4. I have a very close friend who is just now at the one year mark. She is finished with her surgeries and chemo and the doctors say that things are looking good for her. But she is angry at her body and the way it now looks. The last I spoke to her (we live far apart), I could hear the anger in her voice. Your post just helped me understand my dear friend a bit more. I thank you for that. Vent away. It helps you and others.

  5. Who wouldn't be angry? I think we tell ourselves that there is some upside to illness so we can make ourselves less scared, but there is no upside. There is no upside to the fact that I lost my dad to a horrible brain cancer at 66. There is no upside to the pain and the heartache that you went through. There's only the hope that the wounds can heal with time.

  6. You're supposed to be pissed. Not being pissed means you're giving up, and no one wants that. And the happy joy epiphany thing? That's only in Lifetime movies. And really? Vent away. We can take it.


Seeing your comments makes me smile! Thank you so much =)