I have experienced a whirlwind of emotions this week. While it was going on, I felt too depressed to bother with writing about it. When it was over, I no longer cared. The thought occurred to me to simply forgo a blog entry. After all, how many people actually read it anymore now that I am cancer free.
Then, while on the way to breakfast with a few coworkers the other day, one of the guys asked about my port removal. He told our boss that he keeps up with how I'm doing by reading the blog. I told them about my experience on Sunday and how I thought I should write about it since my purpose for the blog has always been to be blatantly honest about my experience so that loved ones can stay up to date and so that others who may be going through their own cancer experience will know that what they are experiencing is normal. My boss told me that this type of honesty is important. It helped him when a friend shared her experience when she found out about his upcoming carotid artery surgery. This is the first chance I have had to share my story.
Sunday:
Just after walking into the house after church, I received an text from my mom. She shared that her cousin's son died that morning of cancer. Now, I barely remember her cousin. I am sure I have met his son, but I cannot place him. I may not even recognize him if I saw a picture of him. However, the news struck me in a profound and unexpected way. I immediately felt withdrawn and on the verge of breaking down. I hit a very hard depression. I was hungry, but in no mood to eat. I isolated myself in my bedroom.
Mike came in and asked if I was okay. I could not say a word. I tried, but I simply could not speak. Instead, I pulled up the text and showed it to him. As he read, I finally broke down and cried. When I could finally catch my breath, I tried my best to explain what I was feeling.
I did not know him. I wasn't upset for the normal reason one would be upset when someone died. I was upset because I felt guilty that he died and I lived. Not only did I live, but I had just gotten my port removed a few days before.
I had just come from church. In Sunday school, I shared the good news about my port with the class. I felt guilty as I said it because my friend, Cheryl was in class that day. She is battling her second round of cancer. She is only at church on occasion. She is dealing with intense treatments. We prayed over her husband for her last week. She was not there and he cried. His emotion touched me deeply. Her courage and genuine happiness for me overwhelm me sometimes. It's so unfair.
I get home and learn of my distant cousin's death from cancer. He had been sick less than six months. I thought about his family. I thought of my friend, Michael from Belmont who died late last year. Why was my family spared and their families had to suffer? Michael and Mikito wanted to live. They had children and families to live for. When I was sick, I prayed for death many times. I was fine with the death option. Why was I spared and they taken? What does God want from me? Why did He keep me here? What purpose does He have for me?
I knew and know all the right answers. Even as I whined to God, He told me my purpose is the same as it has always been, love. I may never know the why and it is not for me to know. Understanding the answers don't help the heart stop hurting. The last thing I wanted on Sunday was for anyone to try to tell me what I already knew. It just didn't make sense to me at the time. My heart and my head were at odds.
It's funny what brought me out of my funk. After dinner, I turned on the television and what was on? GI Jane. I must admit, I absolutely love that movie. I am not tough enough physically or emotionally to make it even one day through the Seal program, but I love to imagine myself as tough as Demi Moore's character. She is one tough cookie. I watched a few minutes of that movie before bed and felt pumped up and ready to tackle a new day. My depression, thank God, was very temporary.
Survivor's guilt is a very strange phenomenon, though. I imagine that is what it must feel like for soldiers returning from war. For a brief moment, I thought I should start seeing a counselor to discuss this. Then, I thought not. The benefits of my background is that I know exactly what a counselor would say or do. The most important thing is to understand and believe the truth even if you don't feel it and to talk about it. I did both several times with several people. I was honest with myself and others. I shared. I prayed. I did all the things a counselor would counsel. For anyone struggling with these issues who need help or someone to talk to, I would highly recommend counseling. Had these emotions stayed with me, I would have sought help. There is nothing shameful about counseling. I have seen a counselor several times in my life. Like I tell the women in my self defense class, women who are victims of a crime who seek counseling heal and are able to move on and live normal, healthy lives more easily and quickly than those who never seek help. Same is true for anyone going through an issue like survivor's guilt.
Thursday:
This morning, I had a bowel movement. Nothing out of the ordinary about that - except that I pooped blood and not just a trickle or two. There was so much blood that I thought I had started my period. There was so much blood that I wiped over and over again, being sure to only wipe my bottom to be sure where the blood was coming from. There was so much blood that I actually examined the stool itself.
I have never in my life bled that much from a bowel movement or knew that could in any way be normal. My port was taken out a week ago today. (It is doing well, by the way. No pain.) I had a blood cancer. now, I was now bleeding from my butt! I immediately jumped to worse case scenario. I had colon cancer and I was going to die. A coworker of mine died of colon cancer years ago.
I wanted to immediately call the doctor then call my family and tell Mike. But, two other officers and my boss were in my and Mike's office. We had a lot to discuss. I tried to stay focused on work, but I was so scared. I wanted to scream out, cry, something other than work.
My boss and another officer left. When the conversation between Mike and the remaining officer got to a point that I did not have to be involved in the conversation, I excused myself. I called and left a message for Dr. Meluch. I just knew he was going to call back and tell me to come in or schedule me for another colonoscopy.
I thought about contacting my parents and sister, but what would I say? Why worry them before I heard back from Dr. Meluch's office? I thought about calling just my mom and asking her to pray for me. Why worry her, though? I decided to not call anyone until there was something to say.
After running an errand on the other end of campus, I walked back to my office and talked to God. I was upset. It's not that I feared death. I have been down that road before. I was just upset because I didn't want to go through treatment again. I have been doing so well. I still need to work on my eating habits. I even contacted my primary care physician about seeing a nutritionist. But, my workouts have been awesome. I have been running and seeing great results. I planned to return to Krav Maga (bag class at least) next week now that the port is out. I started working hard to improve my life and health. Now this? I get a taste of health and see a vision of happiness possible in the future just for it to be taken away? No moving to Texas? No possible writing career or ministry or other job opportunity? This is it?
The lyrics to a Bon Jovi song came to mind. It was a song I heard during my jog this morning. From The Fighter "with loneliness next to me, fear sits in misery, nursing another black eye."
As the rest of the song and the next played on, my mind stopped and focused on those lyrics as I heard them. I had always listened to this song as a fighter who has been defeated or feels defeated. This time, I heard it differently. The slow melody does give it a sense of a broken person, but he is not lost. Times are tough, but he is tougher. He is lonely, but he is not letting fear beat him. He is not nursing another black eye. Fear is nursing another black eye. He beat fear. This is not the first time he beat fear either. Another black eye.
I imagined my own fears crouching in a corner crying and holding his eye, looking back at me like a child bully who was just put in his place.
For me, this morning, the fear was the run. Week five, day three of my 5K training. Running eight minutes at a time without stopping. Run eight minutes, walk five minutes, run another eight minutes. How in the world would I manage to run for eight minutes straight? I did it--twice!
This afternoon, the fear felt a little more real and a lot more threatening than upping my exercise routine.
"Fear sits in misery, nursing another black eye."
I took a few deep breaths and thanked God for the shift in focus and shift in attitude. With the help and grace of God, I can knock out this fear.
As I neared my office, I prayed, "My life is in your hands. I give it all to You. Take my life and make of it what you will. Take all of me and use me how You see fit."
I gave it all, every last bit of myself and my circumstances, whatever they may be, to God. In doing so, I felt at peace.
Even with that sense of God sent peace, I was still a bit withdrawn until my doctor's nurse returned my call later this afternoon.
I have been constipated for the past few days. The blood was bright red and stopped after the bowel movement.Bottom line (no pun intended), I feel no pain from a hemorrhoid, but I most likely have an internal hemorrhoid. She gave me treatment options and told me not to be concerned unless I continue bleeding, especially without bowel movements.
Mike could tell an instant change in my mood after the news. I felt lighter. I confessed to the nurse that I was really scared this morning. She reassured me. If Dr. Meluch is not concerned, then I won't be either.
What an emotional whirlwind! May explain why I crashed on the couch when I got home today. I've said it before, but it's worth repeating. Everyone can imagine what life with cancer is like. No one prepares you for life after cancer.
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