On the outside looking in

I see you with your sad eyes. I don't know if she's still "sick" or in "remission"...which for those of us who've had cancer know that remission is just a word that makes other people feel better. We know it means no evidence of disease. It doesn't mean we are cured.

We walk around some of us fumbling more than others. I was one of those emotional wrecks...wearing my emotions on my sleeve...writing about it and sharing about it. Yelling out to the world, yes, I have had Stage 3 Cancer, and here I am. I hated the thought of people whispering and wondering so I was not aloof. I beat them to the crappy cancer punch line. I'm not sure which one you are...tripping and stumbling or walking the straight and narrow.

I see you with your furrow...that wrinkle that never goes away when your life consists of doctors appointments and chemo....and weeping in the dark when you think everyone is asleep. I use to think I was the only one awake in the middle of the night. I still don't sleep but that is because I have other battles to fight. Funny how life can be ironic...or is it...giving more grief to some and only joy to others? Is it because we can handle it? Or is it because they cannot?

I stopped writing about cancer because I was starting to feel content with my head in the sand for 89 days until my next blood work and pet scans. I still feel content not thinking, writing or talking about it. I have a daughter with a chronic disease...the kind of disease that is 24 hours a day for the rest of her life...unless they find a cure. It is the kind of disease that nobody understands until they have it....just like mine was.  It's the kind of disease where the medicine that keeps her alive is the same medicine that could kill her...and I always have to have my game on. A person can only do so many honest truths in one day...so this is the one I choose. But still.....

I see you wanting to hide among the crowds of all those shiny, happy people. I, too, spent many days doing the same. But now, I am getting better at faking it until I make it because I have a daughter who needs me to be here, and to be one of those shiny, happy people too. I never was the girl who lit up the room. I find some overly shiny, happy people fricking annoying and fake as hell. But I do like to laugh loudly and inappropriately, & I am drawn to people with substance and sad eyes...so maybe in my own way when I laugh too loud or make some sarcastic offensive joke...I too appear to be shiny and happy in my own distorted way.

I use to count the ages of my children now to when and if it came back... like a mathematical equation I would plug in "if"...if this f***ing disease came back for me again with a vengeance to take me out....what would be the age that they could best heal their hearts....how much time could I buy...would they forget me...

I see you and I know you have some of those thoughts...about buying time and keeping your children safe. You feel alone in a sea of people. You sometimes dream of cutting off those annoying ponytails because she will probably not live to grow one again. I see you, and I feel guilty because today I am one of those girls. Today I am N. E. D.,  and I am playing the role of survivor very well. Just know that I see you, and I wish I could tell you it's going to be all right. But I know that might not be true....so I say nothing. I just look you in the eyes and smile...saying nothing because sometimes in a sea of words there really is nothing good to say...except I see you.

The Calm after the Storm: Tips for you still in that storm

To my fellow Storm Troopers,

You will find the calm after the storm. I promise you that. Just remember this, make sure to let it in. And make sure that this is your prime focus. When you are done with your treatment, that doesn't mean you don't have healing left to do. I'm not talking about the physical stuff either. You will always have physical remnants of having had cancer and fought it hard.

I am talking about that pain and those scars that come emotionally. If you are anything like me, those are the wounds that hurt the most. I can limp my way physically through just about anything. but what goes on in my head...that's a whole other story.

These are my wishes for you as I continue to work on them for myself:

1.  You don't have to be an inspiration all the time. I know it helps; I'm the master of faking it until I make it. But it's okay to just NEED to be present with the true feelings you are going through...like anger, like fear (the worst kind when it comes to cancer)...and it's okay to some days, just not be okay. Your family, your friends, your tribe can be your inspiration on those days when you have no more to give. We have your back.

2. You need time to heal.  If you can, and this can be extremely difficult depending on your finances...but if you can, take a leave of absence from work. I did not do this. Instead I dragged my sorry ass to work 1 week after having an experimental inguinal lymphodectomy surgery. I could barely walk without a limp. I had drains hidden under my dress. And worse of all, I ended up with an infection. But, I continued to go to work in the hospitality industry with my painted, shiny face full of  mascara, lip gloss, and artificial hope. And I continued my job helping others find happiness and health while I died a little bit each day, continuing to just fake being okay.
Do you see my point here? I was like a robot, and all it did for me is just prolong all the emotional healing I would need later when my daughter was diagnosed with a chronic disease that led me to almost losing her. Even after that...after that ambulance ride, I still didn't learn. I should have taken the time. Time away to heal. Don't be the person who stayed for a job that eventually would toss you away in the same manner that you tossed your health away. You do you. It's that important.

3.  But you should find something that takes your mind away when you need it.  For me, that is running...and not any old running. When I head into my trails (they are mine in my mind, and I've even added my own paths to extend the run), I am alive. I am at my best. My head clears, I know what is right...I am me...broken, imperfect...but beautiful all the same. I find my calm after the storm. You can find yours. It doesn't have to be a physical activity...just something that lights your mind on fire. Gets those true positive juices flowing.

I will head into this summer, I am positive... with a really big "no evidence of disease" anniversary. There will be no party, no cake. I may or may not even share it with people depending on how I am feeling. But I will be there. I am positive this will happen, and I will relish that calm after the storm when I leave that hospital knowing it didn't break me.  And though it has not been the most graceful dance with the devil, I have danced and survived. You will too. You will dance again to your own calm dance after the storm.