Never the Same

29 Sep 2011 10 Comments

by robinstory in Uncategorized

It’s been a long time.  Too long, probably, but the last several times I sat down to write, the words just wouldn’t come.  OR, in a few cases, the blog was so negative and yucky I didn’t want to post it.  The truth is, I’ve been dealing with what I have learned to be “post-treatment depression”.  I’ve been following some different people who have/have had breast cancer on Twitter, and this has been the topic of discussion more than once.  It’s GOOD to know that I’m not alone in this.  It’s GOOD to know that it’s common.  But I still want to find my way to the other side of it.  I have started some counseling with a Christian counselor and I’m excited to work through some of this with her… I might also mention that it’s not an all consuming depression.  I have good days and bad, but I’m struggling with a few issues daily.

Some might wonder WHY – if I’m now cancer free – I would be struggling with depression of any kind.  Shouldn’t I be jumping for joy?  Yes!  And I still do that occasionally, too.  It’s a weird mix of feelings, to be sure.  But in the moments of chemo and radiation and surgery and expansions there is this “power up” and move forward mindset.  There were certainly moments with tears and sadness, frustration, and anger, too, but really, I didn’t deal with the reality of what was lost, what was happening to me at that time.  I couldn’t.  I had to deal with treatment – and staying alive.   I don’t really like the way I look.  Not my face, so much, which is the obvious thing that everyone else sees, but it’s the stuff others don’t see.  And I FEEL old…and tired.  Physically, I’m a mess.  Having had my final surgery, what I am left with is not the fantastic boob job that everyone (including me) expected I would have.  With clothes on, you wouldn’t really notice.  It’s fine.  And there are a handful of outfits that really make them look “impressive”.  But they just aren’t that great… it’s hard to describe what that means without this becoming an incredibly awkward blog.  (And the picture I’m posting here is one of the “impressive” ones. )I’m grateful for them, but disappointed, too.  And I have to deal with the disappointment as much as I have to acknowledge the gratefulness.  I believe that over time, I will be ok with them, but right now, some days are just hard.  Add to that the scars from my recent hernia surgery, my c-section scars and of course, three drain tube dots – and of course, the weight gain –  (now the possibility of needing gallbladder surgery has presented itself – my body just doesn’t want to give me a break).  It’s a challenge for me.  If I could avoid surgery long enough to really get into the habit of working out and strengthening my body I really believe it would make a TON of difference.  But I’m always recovering.  And just when I get out of some recovery, I start working out and making a little progress and I have to have something else and more recovery..  To be completely honest – and this probably sounds arrogant – this is the first time in my life I have really struggled with this issue of body image.  I have always felt pretty good about my physical appearance, even when I was a little “bigger” than I wanted to be.  Dave has been encouraging, but it’s really hard to see past my own view of myself.  It feels ridiculous to say this, but it’s the honest truth.

The other piece is just realizing that life as I knew it before cancer is GONE.  It will never be the same.  And there are both good and bad things about that.  Figuring out what the “new normal” is for me will take some time.  Feeling like there is “something” that God kept me around for – besides the obvious, which would be my kids – but something that would use this experience and the passion that has risen up in me because of it.  Something that would make a difference.  Something that would bring honor and glory to Him, and help others along the way.  I don’t want to just do walks to raise money for research…that’s important, sure, but I want to take action.  And I don’t know what that means just yet.  I don’t even know that I’m ready for whatever that is.  After all, I’m still dealing with this nasty depression stuff.  Still – the loss of a year and a half of my life, my boobs, my hair… it has been tough to digest.  And the reality that I am left with a baseline of discomfort and chemo-brain…mild neuropathy (particularly in my feet), mild (thankfully!) lymphedema, nerve damage, rib displacement, uncomfortable fake boobs, and I really could go on… that reality is hard to swallow, too.  I can’t just jump in to things the way I used to.  I have to remember to put on my lymphedema sleeve before I lift something heavy or even clean the kitchen counters.  I have to be careful with what I do with my right arm so that I don’t irritate the already irritated nerve, or stretch the burned muscle farther than it wants to go.  I’m right handed and my right hand is impaired.  I can no longer lay on my right side, and I have a lot of neck & shoulder pain.  I know, it doesn’t sound like THAT big a deal…but it adds up.  And for sure, it’s all something I will gladly take knowing that my life has been spared, but I need to mourn this stuff.

I decided I needed to get this blog out.  BECAUSE – no one told me there would be this difficult adjustment period once it was all done.  And someone out there going through breast cancer might need to know…that it’s ok.  It’s normal.  It doesn’t mean  you aren’t grateful, and so glad to be living!!  I have met others battling cancer during this time that haven’t made it.  And I am SO aware that my story could have gone differently.  And so I am STILL overwhelmed by the grace of God that I am HERE today.  I am STILL overwhelmed by the knowledge that I could have missed that lump that day and it could have been so much worse.  And the truth is – that I am blessed beyond measure to have had the opportunity to sit down at the feet of Jesus – in the midst of my personal hell – and to have HIM sit down next to me.  In the fire.  Which He has already passed through and overcome.  I was like Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego who were thrown into the firey furnace, but not burned.  I have never before had such an intensely REAL and PERSONAL  experience with Jesus, and while I wish I could say I live in that place every single day (I can’t) I CAN say that nothing compares – and it is an HONOR to have had those moments with the Savior of the world.  So bear with me as I push through my loss and grief.  My anger and frustration at what is left of me and what I’ve lost.  Just know that it doesn’t mean – AT ALL – that I have lost perspective.  Because in the worst moments of my life, I got to sit and have “coffee” with Jesus.  And I will ALSO never be the same from that experience.

This is me one year ago! Look at how far I've come!

 

 

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