Ok, fair warning, this is going to be a long post. It's been an eternity since I last posted. I've been meaning to update this for awhile, but nursing school has a way of running your life.
So here's a quick little update. I started nursing school last September and I'm about 2.5 months away from starting my consolidation. In other words, I'm nearly done school for good. Famous last words right? No, but seriously, this time I swear. I'm done. To make a long story short, nursing school is a tough gig. 12 hour shifts on top of going to school full time is no joke. I love the hospital work, but could do without nursing theory and endless useless papers. Oh well, the countdown is on.
My MRIs are now every 5 months. Mixed feelings about this. I think having MRIs every 3 months would be perfect and would seriously decrease my bipolar episodes around scan time. The very good news is that they've pushed my MRIs out because I'm stable. I never thought I would love the sounds of one word so much in my entire life. Stable. Let's say it again. Stable. I don't really have the words to express how relieved I am. I'm grateful. Well, that's an understatement, but you catch my drift.
Now, I'm friggin' angry. Being a cancer survivor is not what I thought it would be. It's hard, it's exhausting, and at times, it can be downright miserable. I think as a 'survivor' people assume you should just be thankful you're alive. Why yes, thank you ever so much for pointing out that I'm not dead. As if I don't know how lucky I am. But the thing is, it's really not that simple. When you're healthy, you want time to slow down. There's never enough time. When you're sick, it's the opposite (well for me anyway) - you want time to speed up. You want to hurry up and check everything off your list, because you don't know how much time you have. I'm guilty of that. I'm anxious. Nervous. I don't want to miss anything What girl wants to miss their wedding day? Another thing. Once you're finished treatment, people think life just goes on and that you're fine right? Wrong. It's so much harder now. The thought that my time might run out, never goes away. There's not a day that goes by where I don't think about cancer. Subconsciously or otherwise. Cancer does not define me, but it is forever part of who I am. There's a quote that goes something like...cancer is this dark cloud that follows me even on the sunniest of days... The more you put your life back together, the more you have to lose. And it could all go. One single god damn scan could change my whole life. I often wonder if I would change having cancer...and it's a tough call. Would I give up Colin and my puppy? Truth be told, on those dark days, I would. I would... to have my old life back. And somedays, I know I'm where I should be. It's a weird thing to be thankful for cancer...
In other news, without making this post over 20 pages long, there has been some issues around my fertility and chance to have children. The chemo I was on does affect fertility, but luckily it appears that I have sustained little damage to my ovaries. Way to go ladies! Damn right. However, here's the kicker. Because my situation is so high risk, its advised that I should not carry my own children. Of course every case is different, but in general, brain tumour survivors should not get pregnant. After consulting with a fertility team and my oncology team (is there an award for having the most specialists ever?), ultimately the decision is up to me. Right, as if there is a choice to made here. I'd be putting my life at risk to have children the good ol' fashioned way. The physiological changes the body undergoes during pregnancy can affect tumour reoccurrence in ways we don't understand yet. Could some researcher please get on that? Now, I could get pregnant and be fine or it could come back. So, what would you do if you were me? Although, things may change...it's easier for me to put myself in a place where I have to try and accept that I will likely never carry my own children. And if by some miracle that happens, well then, it will be exactly that...a miracle. But, I'm downright pissed. I'm angry, and sad...it's painful...it's a loss that I don't quite know how to wrap my head around. How do I be ok with that? Or maybe you never are... On top of everything else...my ability to cope is a little tapped out. Ok, maybe more than a little. I cope by ignoring it. And when I do think about this whole mess...I end up in tears...Sometimes everything seems unfair. Why is what seems so natural for others, such a fight for me? How do I cope with close friends who will eventually have children of their own? Will I be able to share their joy? Or will I just be bitter and angry at cancer for taking another thing away from me?
Deep breathe. For those that know me, you know I'm generally a happy, positive person. So...how do I get through? I don't really know...I guess I just focus on the things I do have. Let's list them because it will make me feel better. I'm a good Mother to Ryder, I'm a good daughter... I'm a freakin' amazing nurse...I think I'm a pretty good friend...and I try to be a good partner to Colin. For without him or my family, I would have never made it through this. And Colin, if you're reading this, I want you to know that you're my fairytale, and no matter what the future brings I love you with all my heart. And even on my darkest days, I know everything will be alright because I have you. To my parents: Your strength, tireless love, and endless support have made me the person I am. Words cannot express my gratitude and love for what you both have done. And of course, last but not least, my dog Ryder. I know everyone thinks their dog is special, but Ryder is not just a dog to me...he saved me. Getting a golden retriever puppy had been on my bucket list forever and I got him in the midst of my treatments. He went through a year of chemo with me, made me walk when I was tired, never judged, and was loyal in a way only dogs are. I was so busy looking after that puppy, that I didn't even have time to think about cancer. Probably a good thing. Ryder, you are one of the most precious things in my life. Thank you for keeping me well.
And so, cancer survivorship is an art. It's work. It takes practice and it's not by any means easy. And sometimes I friggin' suck at it. But, I am still here. And despite everything...I look around me and deep down I know my life, in some twisted way, is perfect, and worth living the shit out of.
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