During radiation, I envisioned being on the beach with my family. I always had Hawaii as my destination of choice to celebrate remission or maybe I should aptly say “getting through treatment.” I thought of Chris, our three kids and me frolicking in the teal blue waves, playing together with the tan sand and lush vegetation around. When I started researching Hawaii, I quickly realized we would need to pivot to something more affordable for a family of 5 and the amount of food we consume (particularly organic thanks to cancer and my deep dive of how food is made and prepared in the U.S.). After more research, aka checking Costco, Chris and I decided Mexico would be a suitable replacement trip. Beautiful, all-inclusive and more in our price range. We were correct about the beauty and ease of an all-inclusive resort. However, I did not understand the Pacific Ocean and the massive power of the waves. Here I am thinking we (well, Chris and the kids. Momma doesn’t swim in the ocean past her waist) will be body surfing on the waves and playing catch with the football while waves roll by. That is a no. These waves were ginormous. To my untrained ears, the ocean waves crashing sounded like thunder. There was no playing in the ocean. I did gain a healthy fear of the power of the water and enjoyed the beauty from a safe distance. But during radiation, I had idealized who I am and who my family is. There was zero frolicking on the beach. There were zero family group hugs. A short walk to some rocks for a few pictures was met with grumbling followed by an immediate reprimand and “do it for your mother” comment. Family photos involving a physical closeness garnered elbows and complaints.

I laugh at myself. Maybe it is my desperate attempt of making “fun” memories now because the future can be uncertain or maybe the idea of giving my kids experiences I never got as a kid but my ideal and my reality are often times polar opposites. I don’t think that is entirely uncommon though. Often times, I think we idealize a situation because it is easier. I had to think for a long time for that answer. Staring blankly at my flashing cursor. And although it may seem elementary in nature, the simple answers can be complex. We idealize because it’s easier, it’s what we see on social media, it’s what we have created in our head and it does not bring us into hard truths. I idealized what I thought cancer recovery would entail. Like I said, I heard about cancer recovery but I had not experienced cancer recovery and that is a chasm of difference. Spring break was great. But the return back from vacation has been a very abrupt jolt into my reality. The first week back, I had three accidents. Waking up to a soiled diaper immediately catapults me into a bad mood. My feet have been tingling and painful. To the point that I tripped up the stairs, spilling my coffee. And I get this question, “what do your doctors say?” Honestly, nothing. I do not see my surgeon who told me two years to equilibrium. My radiation oncologist, the only doctor I still see, has commented that maybe my ovaries are starting to work again. Umm, what? And my NP for my oncologist I see every 6 months for my CT scan and bloodwork updates. I see her this week because I had my 6 month checks with which my bloodwork came back abnormal. Talk about an anxiety-producing word. Abnormal. The questions flood and it is hard to continue on as normal when my body feels like it is in disarray and my mind is racing but I’m actively working to calm down while simultaneously pretending nothing is wrong. And I breakdown. In the middle of a team meeting for work. Perfect timing. But my team is gracious and gentle and caring. Moments of gratitude. Yet, I wake up every morning questioning how my body will respond to the day or if some food will not settle well. It has been hard and it has been exhausting, and I am going to leave it at that. And yes, this too shall pass however I am not going to gaslight myself and say “at least I’m alive.” My therapist has been helping me see while that is true, I am going to acknowledge how hard this is. How hard this is on my body and my mental and emotional well-being. It has nothing to do with not being thankful for where I am now and everything to do with allowing myself to just be where I am. Allowing myself to be fully present for my reality so I can continue to show up and work to be my authentic self. 

So friends, there continues to be no “guide” for remission. I have some actions to take for figuring out my GI track and will learn more about my bloodwork results in a couple of days. In the meantime and in the wise words of Tennessee women’s basketball coach Pat Summitt: left foot, right foot, breathe.