Learning from Cancer!

I'm going to steal from a posting from my fabulous PWBC (Pregnant with Breast Cancer) trail blazer Sharon and expand upon some observations.

1) I am AMAZING. 

• Turning 35 with cancer makes you think about life. And death. A lot. The past year has taught me that I am amazing. Really. When all of this craziness began, people kept telling me how brave and strong and inspirational I was. I would just shrug and say that I was doing what anyone would do. Wouldn't everyone diagnosed with cancer while pregnant choose to have their baby despite making chemo longer and more difficult to handle? Wouldn't everyone have chemo and then take their son to the park a few hours later? Wouldn't everyone continue to see their friends and family on a regular basis during treatment? Wouldn't everyone get up in the middle of the night or early morning with their newborn? Wouldn't everyone rarely complain about what they're going through and feeling? What I've learned this year is that no, they wouldn't.  

• I agree whole-heartedly. Sharon is amazing. I am amazing. We are warriors. A friend of mine, Carrie G. sent me a message saying the "God only tests the very strong"...that meant a lot to me and I kept that top of my mind when times got tough.  You DO what you need to do to be a mother and survive for your babies. You put any selfish thought, action, desire away for the lives of your children.  That goes for mothers all over the planet. Not just cancer survivors. MOTHERS are amazing. Mom and Grandma I love you.

• If you didn't know I had cancer and what I was going through, you would never know from meeting me. Or being with me. Or seeing me. You might think my hair/fashion choices were questionable (since I still have no clothes that fit properly). But you wouldn't know. A dear friend recently sent me the most beautiful email that, among other things, said that I am "so fucking tough" that no one would ever know what is going on with me and that I am courageous and brave and she doesn't know how I found the ability to fight the way I do. My Aunt also left me a similar message after seeing me at the park with Miles 40 minutes after finishing chemo. She said that I "blow her mind" and that she hopes I give myself credit for being so amazing. And what I have learned this past year is that they are right. No need to shrug or think that everyone would act the way I'm acting. I am strong and a warrior and a miracle and tougher than pretty much anyone. Period. So fuck you cancer. I am amazing. 

• Most people didn't believe I was going through treatment. I got tons of "you'd never know" and "you look amazing" - I'm sure sometimes they were just being nice but other times I hid it pretty well and seemed like any other doting mother.  I found ways to get rid of the things in my life that weren't priorities so I could tend to my health and to the needs of my family first and that preoccupied my time SO much that I didn't have time for the bullshit. I also didn't have time to be "sick" in bed.  In many ways having babies helped in that regard, I didn't have time to wallow on how I felt, I just had to DO and BE and GO...

• I am amazing for doing the Avon Walk (walking 26.2 miles and speaking to the crowd), just after radiation, with low blood counts from Xeloda and while on Lupron. I fucking rock. As one friend said "You are amaze-balls" - that had me laughing out loud. I do honor my awesomeness. :)

 2) Things I've Learned From Cancer (again, copying from Sharon)

I am not as Vain as I Thought.

• I am not as vain as I thought, or perhaps I'm just delusional about what I look like. 

• This had me in stitches since I was very delusional about what I looked like. I tried at first. Wearing the wig, wearing high heels to social events, trying to find cute maternity clothes and put make-up on. That lasted about five seconds. I have never been the sort of make-up wearing, picking outfits, purses and jewelry kind of girl. (Except in my pageant days!) I like to look nice but I am low-key. At a a certain point I didn't like anything synthetic or unnatural touching my skin that included jewelry, a watch or head coverings. As I gained perspective on what was really important, MY HEALTH, I stopped caring so much about the material things and putting on a show to keep up with other people. I put vanity aside. I feel more beautiful this way, strong in my spirit and I believe that truly shines through. And yes, I'm blessed with good genes so it's not like I'm turning into a pumpkin or anything and I acknowledge those good genes for affording me the opportunity to not wear a ton of make-up or go overboard with styling to appear attractive. I said I'm not AS vain as I thought but I'm still a little vain... 

• My entire head is now covered in hair. I don't think I look sick anymore. Weird in a pregnant-military-chick sort of way, but not sick. Before I finished cycle 1 of chemo, I informed Boris that I was going to buy makeup and start wearing it when my hair grew back in. "And I want to wear nice clothes every day. No sweats or anything." Not a fan of makeup or dressing up (and I rarely do either), Boris wanted to know why. "Because there's a fine line between having short hair and looking fashionable and chic, and looking butch," I told him.  

• I had those thoughts too, thought in order to mask my treatment I could try to play off my short hair like I was G.I. Jane but that proved futile while pregnant. Pregnant and bald. Mostly I tried because I wanted things to go back to normal, so that if I didn't look sick you wouldn't know that I was going through treatment.  I also didn't want David to be embarrassed of me. He would shudder that I wrote that but it's true. What wife doesn't want to appear attractive to the person she loves most?  Anyway, the minute I sprouted the tiniest bit of hair so I looked military-chic I ditched the $3,000 wig, scarves, hats, et al. David liked me better without all of that. (Or so he says). Thank God for good men in this world. 

• When I go out, I think I make people far more uncomfortable than I feel. When my hair was more sparse (and yes, I still went out sans head coverings), people would stare or try to be discreet (you know when someone turns around pretending to look at something else but you know they're really looking at you), but I'd just smile or wave and they'd nervously smile back and turn around quickly...But now that my hair is thick, I don't feel uncomfortable at all and most of the stares have stopped. 

• This is funny since at first I was the uncomfortable one because I was worried about what other people thought. That's why I wore the wig and invested in multiple head coverings. Was it vanity or insecurity or was it me not wanting to make other people feel uncomfortable? Then I got smart and didn't give a crap. I had cancer. I was pregnant. I was fighting the fight. I was a warrior. I felt I gave a face to breast cancer and wanted to spread the word that you could receive treatment while pregnant, have a healthy baby and survive. 

People Like Talking About Hair.

• My new do elicits a lot of unsolicited conversations. They're mostly friendly and encouraging and it's pretty fascinating. A mom I see often at the park told me she didn't recognize me with my "new haircut." I'm not sure who chooses this haircut, but it was nice that she didn't think my hair screamed cancer.  

• I get people who just "HAVE" to tell me how much they love my hair. How I have such a gorgeous little face to be able to pull off such a cute haircut. How they wish they had the courage to cut their hair short. How they feel inspired by seeing my hair cut that they want to go get their hair cut. I have had men follow me around the grocery store then come up to me and tell me that my hair is "awesome" or "looks amazing"; that is of course when I decided to start wearing my wedding ring again. I have no idea why having such a short hair "cut" illicits such strong responses from people.  Often times I would just say "thank you" but other times I would thank people for thinking it was a choice. I knew if I said that I would have to explain but I like sharing my story of survival and it's not just for shock value. I want people to not be afraid and to learn from my experience. 

Compliments.

• Never in my whole life have I been told so often that I look great. Someone tells me on a daily basis. I'm not sure if I looked like hell before cancer or if people are just expecting me to look like death and are pleasantly surprised that I don't, but the compliments are never ending (not complaining!).  

• People ask me "how are you DOING though, really?" and I say "fine, actually" and the response is always, "well, you look GREAT!". I think it's amusing. I mean I'd say the same thing. What else do you say to someone whose just fought cancer? I do feel my ego has been inflated tremendously though, apparently, my skin is "glowing" and "creamy perfection" and - "oh, what products do you use" and my hair is such a "beautiful color, I can't believe you didn't have it colored" or "it's such a cool texture" and so on. These are just the social norms of small talk but I'll take it!!

Surrealism.

• I often catch a glimpse of myself in a mirror or window and sometimes stop and pause. "Who the hell is that?" I often wonder. I am unrecognizable to myself... Sometimes as Boris and I are getting ready for bed and I'm slathering my body in Aquaphor, I'll turn to him and ask if he can believe I have cancer. He can't. I have cancer. Me neither. I have cancer. I think. I guess the cancer has been removed. We hope. We don't know for sure and won't until I have my scans. So I don't know if I have cancer, am battling cancer, am a survivor? How surreal. 

• We all know I am still struggling with the survivor label but I agree that it is surreal. Like I'm living in a fourth dimension and might wake up from this weird dream sometime.  I'm actually starting to like what I see when I look in the mirror. I don't just see the imperfections, I see battle scars that I have some pride in knowing that I have come out of them stronger. That I now know how strong I can be. Also, I'm kind of really digging the short hair.

The C-Bomb Works.

• I'm shameless. I know. But sometimes a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do. If Pizzeria Mozza is booked, I just tell them I'm pregnant with cancer and voila - they're not booked anymore.  If I'm going to go through this shit - I'm going to milk it for all I can. 

• I was less vocal about this EXCEPT when I felt someone was an asshole. I'd use it for shock value to remind people that you never know if the person you cut off in line or are curt with is going through some kind of struggle. One of my high school friends posted this on her facebook and I loved it "The one that angers you controls you -- Don't give away that power!! -- especially the one that does it intentionally".  Karma is a bitch, right? We can certainly hope that those who wage a war on you because of an internal war inside will reap what they sew.

I No Longer Care Who Knows I have Cancer.

• When I was initially diagnosed I only wanted to discuss cancer with a select few. The marines of my life if you will. Now, not so much. If anyone comments on my hair (or sadly, now, my lack thereof) I blurt out that I have cancer or am being treated for cancer. I shock people all the time and really, truly don't care. 

• Now I feel like I am a crusader. I do like sharing my story so that others can be aware. October is breast cancer awareness month. Please perform a self-evaluation or get the women in your life to examine themselves and get screened for anything that feels "unusual".  Even if they are young. Even if they are pregnant. Even if they are breastfeeding!