My friends at church commented on how good and how tired I look. The exhaustion from yesterday wears on my face - along with the eyeliner from the makeover that I could not scrub off! After church, I had a time of fellowship at the youth pastor's house with others who work with the youth to discuss our Wednesday night fellowship time. I didn't add to the discussion. I was doing good just to be there. Don't think anyone noticed much, though. Some knew about my day yesterday and others probably noticed nothing out of the ordinary. I'm always the quiet one in that group. I go back tonight to start my first night with the youth on Sunday evenings. Why tonight? Some may ask. Well, for one, it's the start of a new school year, perfect time to start new with them. Second, church for me is like a job in that there's no question of if I should go. If I'm in town and not sick, there's no other place I want to be!
Anyway, my time is limited and my week next week is very busy so I want to talk about the rest of the National Women Survivor's Conference.
Saturday started bright and early with the Survivor's 5K. I was so excited or nervous about it that I had dreams about it all night. Mostly, that I was running late and getting angry with people for making me late and taking my day away from me. Seems to be a common theme in my life lately. Whenever I have really big days, something happens with someone else, something negative, and ruins my positive, good day. I guess I was afraid it would happen again. I needed this day. I don't know how else to put it. I just needed it. It was like my future, my mental, emotional, and physical well being were tied in to how well the day went.
So, again, it started with a 5K. My friend, Mike, and his girls participated with me. My friend, Freida, came wearing one of my shirts to watch and support me. Like I said in my last entry, I had not trained the way I had planned, but I still wanted to give it everything I had. And, I did - and more, so much more.
The race was actually only 3.1 miles, just under a full 5K and the course wound around the Opryland Hotel, most of the road nice and straight. The sky was cloudless and blue. The sun, at 7:30am already, was bright and the air was sticky. The mood was electrifying. It was as if everyone else had the same intense energy I had.
I had my plan, but I had NO idea how hard it was going to be to stick to my plan. I planned to dedicate each mile to someone, hoping their memory or fight would propel me forward. Now, I have participated in a few 5Ks before, but I have never run the entire thing before. IF I managed to do so this day, it would be a first and it would be a HUGE victory of mind over matter. I have never really run more than one mile at a time.
I dedicated mile one to the memories of former Belmont photographer who died from Leukemia, Michael Krouskop, and my sister's friend's son, five year old, Tynan, who also died of Leukemia. As I thought about them, I told myself to run for them, since they could not. I thought about their lives and the lessons they have taught me and others. In between that time, Mike and I talked about nothing in particular.
The one mile marker came close and the sun started to seep my energy already. Mike, who usually runs on ahead of me, stuck by me. He told me that I was running for others, but he was running for me. He would continue to encourage me forward.
I dedicated mile two to my friend Cheryl, battling her second round of cancer, now in hospice care, but with the best spirit and attitude I have ever seen in a person facing their own mortality. She is a hero. I ran on. I prayed for Cheryl. I prayed God would give me the strength to get through this mile for her. I prayed He would give me the strength she wishes she had. I could not stop. If I stopped, it would be a show of defeat, for me, for Cheryl. I had to press on, to be stronger than the fatigue, to be stronger than the cancer. I choked back tears. I cried out to Jesus. I pushed myself onward.
I dedicated mile three to my Uncle Juan battling stage three colon cancer and to my Aunt Kathy, his wife and caretaker. The fatigue intensified. My stomach started to churn and I felt like I was going to throw up. I began to feel a little light headed. I didn't think I could do it. Was I having a heat stroke? I constantly ran self checks in my head. Am I still sweating? Yes. Can I see straight? Yes. Can I still talk? Labored, but yes. Could I still think straight? Absolutely. My prayers intensified, calling out the name of Jesus, pleading for His strength to carry me on, to run for my Uncle Juan who is too tired to do much of anything. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. For Uncle Juan. For Aunt Kathy. Each step, each breath became a one word prayer, pleading Jesus to fill me and get me through. Mike running just ahead of me, encouraging me, telling me that I could do this, I will do this. I called out the name of Jesus with each labored exhale. I again choked back tears. I could not let my mind win. I could do this. I had to do this. I could not give in. Jesus. Jesus. For Uncle Juan. For Aunt Kathy.
Mike assured me that we were almost done. He told me the end was in sight. The last 0.10 mile marker was up ahead. We could see the finish line. We could see the crowd cheering us onward. Mike reminded me of my mantra to finish strong. He asked if I wanted to push it to the end. I told him I was already giving it all I got. I was running very slowly, but I was running. I had no more. He didn't believe me. He told me I was not giving it my all.
I could do this. I could finish strong. I dedicated the last 0.10 mile to all my caretakers, my sister, mom, dad, the rest of my family, my church, Belmont, everyone who fought the fight with me and got me through. The last stretch was for them. I felt them cheering me. I felt them behind me pushing me ahead. I gave it my absolute all, leaving nothing, and I mean nothing on that road. I ran as fast as my fatigued body would carry me, fighting for each last breath.
A chill ran up my spine. I felt cold. I told Mike I felt cold and he told me that was good. Meant I was sweating. Keep pushing. I felt like I was barely moving, but I gave it everything I had, for my caretakers, for me, for Jesus.
I crossed the finish line just under 43 minutes. A slow time, but I did it. I accomplished something I have never done before, something I thought I could never do. I finished strong.
I crossed that finish line and I could no longer hold back all the overwhelming emotions I was feeling throughout the course of the run. A woman put a medal around my neck. There may have been dozens of people who finished ahead of me, but I felt like she was putting a gold medal around my neck.
I turned and hugged Mike. I think I took him by surprise. I held on to him and wept. Something happened to me during that race. Something died and something else was made new.
After the race, I had to find a shady place to sit, drink some water, and catch my breath. I was physically and emotionally spent. Once I caught my breath again, I had renewed energy and I felt invincible. My friend, Freida, warned me that after that physical and emotional release, I would crash hard. I still have not had the chance to recover.
Before:
After:
After the race, I came home to get cleaned up and then returned to the convention for the final day of sessions. By the time the sessions began, my body was starting to slow. Luckily, I was still able to enjoy and take something profound away from the last session I attended about life after cancer.
The biggest thing I got out of this session and the entire convention is that I am not alone. All the things I have been feeling, all the issues I have been dealing with are very normal. No one understands me better than someone else who is or has been through cancer.
During the last session, Navigating Survivorship, The Emotions of Surviving Cancer, I laughed to myself a number of times. It was as if someone had told her beforehand all the issues I was currently facing and struggling with. I want to give my notes exactly as I wrote them down:
- might be years to adjust to life after cancer
- issues may come up again and again throughout life that require attention and nurturing
- fear of recurrence is normal and natural
- all these feelings feel awful because they don't feel normal and are hard because you are no longer surrounded by cancer survivors but they are all normal feelings for the survivor
- the emotional tsunami - I should feel good, should be happy, grateful, but feel bad. This is the beginning of the emotional tsunami - can happen any time out of the blue at any stage of survivorship
- survivorship is not a straight road - it's not smooth sailing
- sometimes a bad day is just a bad day - doesn't mean the cancer is back, don't fight what is happening. Feel what you feel, have patience with yourself, have perspective about what is really going on, take time to reflect on what you have accomplished, how far you have come.
- lack of concentration is normal (in my notes, I underlined the word normal three times)
- cancer does not change everything, it creates an opportunity to reevaluate, clarify, question what matters to you
- there is no right or wrong way to live as a survivor.
- we take on a lot of unnecessary angst or guilt. Only thing that matters is how I choose to live my life. My status as a survivor will change over time.
- *survivor's guilt - there is no hierarchy of cancer. Cancer is cancer. Embrace emotions, but don't make it harder on yourself, your experience was your experience
- all feelings are coping mechanisms, but not healthy if it lasts too long, if it lingers
- *surviving cancer is enough - you don't have to go climb a mountain, change the world
- do and live how you want and that is more than enough
- seek support
- laugh
- survivorship requires active participation
- I will continue to change - be honest about it, talk about it, seek support, write about it - helps to get clarity and perspective
- not every aspect of you has changed, but it is okay to grieve the loss of yourself
- this process takes time and may come in waves
One woman spoke up about her struggles with survivor's guilt. This ignited this topic again and reinforced to me how real it is and how all survivors experience it. She discussed it further with us and gave us good tips to re-frame our perspective. It really helped me:
- survivor's guilt keeps coming up. It is real and big, important to acknowledge this. I will most likely continue to have this response when I hear about others who die. Remember, the two are not connected, my living and their dying
- I lived. They died. One has nothing to do with the other. It is okay to acknowledge that's tragic, but good may come out of it for that family
- turn guilt into action, do something for someone else
- before volunteering with other cancer patients/survivors, realize you may not be ready or prepared, make sure you are emotionally stable and taken care of first (I am not ready)
After this session, it was time for lunch, courtesy of the Cancer Treatment Centers of America. While we ate a very healthy meal, one of their chefs was on stage doing a cooking demonstration. Before that, a panel was on stage answering questions from the audience about health and diet. The meal was good and I got a lot of valuable information, but I was growing more and more tired. I elected to walk around the huge hotel and look for a forbidden drink, the enemy of cancer patients and survivors. Unfortunately, or fortunately, however you want to look at it, Pepsi has a monopoly at the Opryland Hotel. I don't care what anyone says, Pepsi DOES NOT taste like Coke. I figured that was God's way of telling me to stick it out.
I still had over an hour before my makeover (yes, I signed up for the free makeover. What the heck? I like free!) and I didn't care much about the rest of the celebrity chef cooking competition in the main ballroom. Instead, I went upstairs where the breakout sessions were held and took me a cat nap in a comfy leather chair.
Finally, time for my makeover. As soon as I sat down, I told he she could do anything she wanted with me, but I did not want false eyelashes. Too many of the women were wearing them and my eyes are just too sensitive. No way!
During the first night, at the red carpet pajama party, several women were in awe about how quickly my hair has grown back. They were amazed with how thick and straight it was. This shocked me. I replied by saying that it was thinner on top than normal, had more grey, and was wavier than normal. I used to have very thick, long, very straight hair. Apparently, it is still thicker and straighter and grows faster than a lot of other women survivors.
The hair stylist, however, still realized it was thinner on the top than on the sides. They gave me a fake hair piece to give me bangs and volume. I actually really liked bangs and think I will get bangs next time I get my hair cut. The piece looked like a toupee for a small man. Mike had to help me figure out how to take it off. He then had a lot of fun trying it on his own head!
The girl who did my makeup spent a lot of time on my eyes. Poor thing. I told her my eyes were sensitive, but she hung in there. As much time as she spent on me, I just knew I was going to look like a clown!
When she gave me the mirror, I was taken by surprise and said "WOW!" She asked me what I meant by that. I told her I do not wear makeup and was unused to it. I could not recognize myself, but I thought she had done a great job.
After the makeover, from the neck up, it was time for my photo shoot. The photographers did a great job making me feel special and beautiful. One told me I looked like a model and another told me how easy I was to photograph. I knew they were saying the same thing to everyone. They are the Survivor's Glam Squad. Their mission is to make women who have gone through so much and who have self confidence issues as it relates to their own femininity and sexuality feel beautiful. Even though I knew it was all part of the makeover, it did make me feel pretty good.
As I was waiting for photo shoot number two, one of the makeup artists asked me how I thought I looked. I told her. She said, "more importantly, how do you feel?" I told her I felt like I real girl for the first time since I lost my hair. It truly was a unique experience. Earlier in the day, I even got fake fingernails! That I didn't like much. Too hard to do things with nails! Besides, a few fake nails could not make my man hands look feminine!!!
After my makeover, it was time for dinner. The convention would end with a performance by Martina McBride at the Grand Ole Opry. I had asked my friend Mike to be my non-date companion. We went to eat at the mall before going to the show.
A few people looked at me weird. I don't know if they thought I had too much makeup on, looked strange because I was glamorous from the neck up and wearing a t-shirt and jeans, or if they thought I looked pretty. It has been a very, very long time since a man has paid any attention to me at all so the slight attention did make me feel a bit uncomfortable.
(Ran out of time. Off to church. To be continued...)
I'm back and I still have a little gas in me to finish the blog before going to bed
Anyway, after a cheap meal at Moe's, it was time for the show. I was afraid I would not make it through and would end up snoozing during the Opry. Our seats were high in the balcony and I spent most of the time watching the screens. Before the show, I told Mike I could not cry anymore because of the makeup. I had so much eye makeup on, I did not want it to run and make me look like Alice Cooper. I had been a ball full of emotion during the entire convention!
John Conlee was the host of the first section of the Opry. I love that man. I am not a fan of modern country, but I really like the old stuff. He sang Rose Colored Glasses and I had to fight back the tears. That chorus is something I have sung to myself numerous times since my divorce. It reminded me again of Brad and the good times we did have and what could have been had...well...I digress. It is a bitter sweet song.
I got a kick out of the announcer and hosts. They kept mentioning having survivors in the house and welcoming the survivors. I told Mike that those who weren't part of the conference somehow are probably wondering "survivors of what?"
Wade Hayes was on the show as well. I liked the first song he sang because it reminded me of high school. Then, he, too, welcomed the survivors. He told a story of his own battle with stage 4 colon cancer and how he should not have lived through it, but he is in remission. Now, everyone knew what they were talking about when they mentioned survivors. He sang a song about his experience that he wrote while going through chemotherapy. I tried my best to hold back the tears, but by the end of the song, tear drops were falling from my eye lashes and streaming down my cheeks. I watched others wipe tears away from their eyes. When the song was over, I turned to Mike and asked how bad my face looked. To my surprise, everything was still in place! I should have suspected that. They were doing makeovers for women survivors. They probably knew we would be getting weepy at some point during the convention. I'm sure they used water proof eyeliner and mascara. Plus, they were using professional stuff for the camera and sprayed our faces to set it. When I got home, I scrubbed my face raw trying to get it all off and never managed to get it all. Today, I got eye makeup remover and it still would not come off completely.
Back to the show...after he finished singing, I stood and clapped. I have stood for others before, but I have always followed the lead of someone else. This time, without caring about what anyone else was doing of thinking, I rose to my feet. Many rose to their feet as well.
Then, one more surprise. They brought out Scott Hamilton to be the guest host. He introduced artists and told the audience about the convention. That was really cool and unexpected. I thought the Opry was a suggestion by the convention folks as a good way to wrap things up. I had no idea they or we would be an active part in it in any way!
Finally, the headliner came out, Martina McBride. Before she sang a song about a husband loving her through her battle with cancer, she told the women survivors to stand up and give ourselves a hand. The song was powerful. Luckily for me, it did not start the water works again like the Wade Hayes song did. I was so physically and emotionally spent. I couldn't handle too much more.
John Conlee, Rose Colored Glasses
Scott Hamilton
Martina McBride
The show ended and we went home. I slept hard, but not enough. When I got to church, I was afraid I would fight to stay awake during the sermon. It's strange. Even though I am wore out more than I remember ever being, the experiences of the past few days lingered, making me smile and feel truly content. I was eager to talk about it with people and when they ask how I liked it, the best way I can describe it's effect on me is to say that it was like having three days of intense therapy. I am excited and cannot wait for next year.
My focus was on the psychological and physiological aspects of life after cancer. There were several sessions about sex, sexuality, and romantic relationships. I felt no need to attend any of these sessions because I am not sexually active nor do I intend to be any time soon. I am divorced with no boyfriend and no dating prospects, nor do I want any right now. However, knowing there were several sessions about this made me realize that some of the things I am feeling about sex and relationships are very normal responses to cancer. Yes, I fully believe part of my hang-ups and complete distrust in and repulsion of relationships is from the hurt I experienced during the divorce. The other part, I'm sure, is how cancer has made me feel more like an it than a girl. I do not feel sexual at all. I do not feel like a girl. I do not feel like a boy. I simply don't feel like anything related to sexuality. I'm glad that I am not in a relationship so I don't have to concern myself with any of that right now. I got what I needed this year. Like several of the presenters said, our needs and emotions during survivorship is fluid and will continue to change. If I feel more emotionally stable next year, maybe I'll try some of these other sessions.
I would highly, highly recommend this convention for anyone effected by cancer in any way. Obviously, it helps the survivor, but it also helps the caretakers and other loved ones understand their role and what the survivor is going through or what they may go through.
These ladies spent years organizing this event and it shows. It was a lot of fun and extremely informative. It was all about relationship and they truly do care about making sure the woman is fully taken care of. I cannot say enough good things about it.
I also learned to be very grateful for Dr. Meluch. I already was, but so many people get such uncaring doctors who are so busy with the numbers that they don't give their patients the care and attention they need and deserve.
I thank God for sending me such great doctors and for this entire journey.
Well, enough said. Again, I simply do not feel like editing. I hope my enthusiasm found its voice in these words.
Goodnight!
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