Assessing the Damage...

The last few weeks, since my incision closed up and I awaited radiation, it's been like finding pieces of my former life. As if I stand at a battlefield, or demolished city, wreckage surrounding me, and try to assess the damage of what's left. There's the stench of death in the air, while some aspects of me lay dead at my feet, others are still hidden underneath the rubble. Wounded parts cry out for help, to be saved, screaming in fear that they'll be lost to me forever. I know I have to tend to them before they slip away from me, but while I try to save some I know it will cause me to lose other pieces of me. I don't know which to save first. I want to save it all, but I know it's too late for that. There's already so much that's dead, lost, gone forever. The girl I was before this battle started is gone, emerging from the fog and smoke looming in the air is someone who looks like me, but she's scarred now, both physically and deep within her soul. She carries with her a fear of repeating the past, fear of another battle. I'm exhausted from the battle, I crave the warmth of my former life, peace, laughter. But as I look out on the field, at the wreckage cancer has caused, I hesitate to feel victorious in any fashion because the war isn't over.

I'm anxious, to move on, to forget, to get on with my life, like everyone says I will when this is over. But I don't think they understand, or I wonder if they even could, that this is never really over, forgotten, or will be behind me. Every morning when I wake up, the scars are there to remind me. The fear of it returning is there to remind me. Feeling lost to even myself, reminds me. One day I'll be back at work, doing normal activities, living what looks like a normal life as a normal person, like I've forgotten this all and moved on. But there is no true moving on from this. How do you "forget" something so damaging? How do you "move on" from something so ruthless? Something that charges in, destroys your life and your body, and could come back at any time...there is no moving on, no forgetting that. You're just left to stand at the battlefield, broken, mutilated, humiliated, no dignity or pride left in you, exhausted as you can only assess the damage and try to save any remnants of your former life that you can as you crawl to safety.

I see pictures and read stories of other women who fought the same battle, they're clothed in pink wearing beaming smiles, proud, victorious survivors. They've gone through hell and come out happier, more fulfilled than they were before. And I wonder, how did they get like that, and not like me? How did they come out of it so filled with joy? How are they not like me, dragging my feet like a kid throwing a tantrum, pissed off about every part of the process? Not them, they're #livingtheirbestlife. But even them, have they forgotten, have they moved on? There's no forgetting, there's no moving on. People tell me how proud they are of me, and I don't know why they think that. I've done nothing to be worthy of praise. I've done my best to not die, and done it as cheerfully as I can. I am not someone who's come out of this with a beaming smile, bringing awareness to the cause, or feels like a warrior. The sight of pink makes me want to vomit, I didn't choose to go into battle, I was thrown into it kicking and screaming. I went into this, because I didn't want to die. And so far, God has saved me.

I'm in radiation now, approaching the finish line of treatments. I'll ring the bell once more, people will congratulate me, they'll call me a survivor, celebrate that I'm finished, and they'll forget and move on, and it'll be expected of me to do so too. But I can't, this isn't something you can move on from, not something I can forget. Then others will tell me oh in time, you'll be okay, just give it time and you'll start to feel yourself again, things will go back to normal. Your normal, or mine? Because your normal sees me living life, looking fine, looking "normal." My normal is anything but. My bones hurt, all the time. The neuropathy in my feet is excruciating, I lift my foot that feels about 15 pounds and every step as if I press my foot onto razor blades. All day. My chest is scarred, flat, and tight like compression wrapping that's too tight, it's hard to breathe, like wearing an iron bra. Every day there's pain, every day it's a struggle to do the things I used to do without a thought. Normal, meaning what my life used to be like, is gone forever. This is all that's left, a beaten, broken person...

I'm almost done with treatments, and I have no idea what I'm supposed to do about it. I'm not the same person I once was, I'm not entirely sure who this new person is, and I have no idea what "moving on" really entails. I remember after mom passed away, I carried with me this exact same feeling. After two years of helping her through that battle, and helping her through losing that battle, I sat in my living room with this heavy "Now what" feeling I didn't know how to answer. You can't just move on, can't just forget...so what do you do? You carry on because you have to, because the world keeps spinning, life keeps happening whether you're ready for it or not...but what do you do, now what? I'm sitting here, in this brief time of waiting for my skin to burn and break, picking apart the damage. What's salvageable, what's ruined...what do I want to carry with me as I walk toward the "Now what" phase. God carried me through the battle, will he carry me through this too? Losing mom was one of the scariest times in my life, my whole world was changed, forever. To this day, I still feel that pain, still feel how my life is different, I'm different. Is that how it's going to be for me again, after this, after my cancer? Will I just go on through life, feeling different, broken, just going through the motions because that's what you do?

I wish that I could peek behind the curtain, if only for a moment, and look at God's plan. Just sit and have a cup of coffee with him as he gave me the rundown on how this is going to shake out. But that's not how faith works...you have to trust and believe in the unknown, of what you cannot see and what you cannot control. You have to accept that sometimes when you're asking for help, you're asking the wrong question, or that you might not like the answer. I don't like this path I'm on, I don't understand it, I didn't want it, and I don't want to do it again...but life isn't about what I want. It's not about my happiness, or YOLO, it's not about understanding, acceptance, or doing whatever makes me happy...it's about my faith, and one day sitting beside the throne of my Father. I have no idea how to move forward through this, I have no idea how I'm going to get through the "Now what" phase, no idea how I will ever heal...the only thing I know is that it was my faith that's gotten me this far, and it's my faith that will get me through the rest. The battlefield before me is horrendous, I'm almost petrified to go on, almost too tired to go on, almost too exhausted to care. But that's when I have to ask God to get me through, and trust that he will. So how the hell am I supposed to move on from this...I will simply close my eyes, and step out in faith....