Dimensions Report

“You have cancer.”

Those three words started 2023 for me. Closely followed by, “There are 6 months of chemo in your future, and you will lose your hair.”

My thoughts and emotions tumbled, unable to find purchase for months. Overwhelmed doesn’t begin to describe what the newly diagnosed cancer patient feels. I knew I needed help, but didn’t know how to find it. Maybe they keep us partially ignorant on purpose. If I knew the complete truth of what my life was going to be like for the rest of the year, I would have been more overwhelmed.

Losing my hair was one of the least horrible side effects. Effectively, I was systematically poisoned week after week. Yes, some people deal better with chemo than others, but no one gets out of it feeling like they’re ready to mambo.

I shouldn’t have been surprised I ended up in the hospital more than once during the ordeal, but I was continuously horrified at the way cancer took over my life. Angry and affronted is what I felt a lot, and I resisted the barrage of appointments, insisting they work on my schedule, like the stubborn lady I am. I did have to give in to their schedule and give up all control. I guess that was my biggest objection—the loss of control. Not just a little control. All control.

On the plus side, tenacity saw me through the chemo, the surgeries, the side effects, an the radiation. And, in the end, I reached the magical nirvana phase of “No Evidence Detected,” which meant my cancer was dead.

That made chemo worth it. Horrible as it was, if I had to do it again, I would. Why? Because those extra years of life and health are worth the awfulness and the trial. I’m not done living yet.

After chemo, I had two surgeries. After those, I felt like a Frankenstein—mutilated and hacked up. My insomnia issues started in earnest after the second surgery. I’m pretty sure there are a lot of emotions bubbling under my skin I haven’t dealt with yet. That’s something I’ll look into addressing this year.

Radiation wasn’t a picnic either. I still have pain and the discoloration. My irradiated tissue keeps texture, color, shape and size, which makes me feel more mutilated and freakish.

Yes, the battle scars are better than the cancer killing me, but sometimes when I stop to think about it all, I dissolve into jelly. I know there’s a lot in my emotions and psyche I have not dealt with. From the initial diagnosis to now, was a constant whirlwind of tests and doctors and treatments. There wasn’t a lot of time to digest and process.

There were moments when I stood outside of the cancer center and my brain screamed at me to run away. I’d tell myself, “I really don’t want to do this.”

But I’d see the 80-year-olds fighting, and I kept myself focused on the fact that I would be okay in the end. I repeated that over and over and over, and it got me through.

It’s unclear how I got through some days. They were dark and filled with sickness and awfulness and nothing good. Every minute ticked by like a day of agony. Many people were rooting for me. That certainly helped. And, like I said earlier, I can be really stubborn. It’s not in my nature to give up, so I was going to fight and keep fighting.

Small amounts of relief were found through my acupuncturist. Dana was a godsend, and I will continue to see her in the years to come. She introduced me to alternative therapies and essential oils. She certainly made an unbearable six months a little more bearable. She always gives me sound advice and valuable pointers. Most of all, she listens.

Many of the oncology nurses also listened. A lot. Some of them are true angels on Earth. They should be paid better than CEOs.

My writer life helped keep me looking forward, too. I could forget my agony for a bit here and there by drowning my mind in plans for my stories. Books helped too. Thank you, Murderbot and Legends & Lattes.

The toughest people on Earth are those battling cancer. Each warrior adds his or her story and helps the next person. Each person leaves a legacy of their cancer story. I leave a legacy, especially my uncommon reaction to Keytruda.

Anyway, the year ends with cancer defeated and the war won. So, 2023 ends in a good place. It was the hardest fight of my life, and the one I’m most proud of. I endured, I conquered, and I was victorious. After an extremely bumpy and rough patch of road, I get to go on with my life.

So get tested and screened for any cancer they test and screen for. The earlier it’s found, the more likely you are to survive. Early detection is the best weapon in any arsenol, and so many people do survive. The survival stories aren’t heard enough, but you need to seek them out. Read them. Hear them. There are millions and millions of survivors. WE ARE HERE.