Yesterday was the two week "anniversary" of my cancer diagnosis. It still seems a little unreal to me. It's not like we will be celebrating this "anniversary" with cake and champagne. Heck, most days I still ask myself, "did they really call and tell me I had cancer?" It's real alright, but it doesn't feel real. It doesn't feel like it could possibly be right. I still have far more questions than I have answers. I still don't understand why God has put me in this journey--I'm still 100% sure I don't like it. I'm still 100% sure that somewhere, someday, somehow, I will understand, but today is not that day. Yesterday wasn't either and I'm pretty sure tomorrow I will have will have many of the same questions.
I'm still racked by guilt/anger/confusion/frustration/shame/shock (I don't know--pick one of those perplexing feelings and fill in the blank) how I am supposed to lead people to a healthy life (Hey, BUY Christ Walk HERE: It's coming in December and it rocks big time) when I'm obviously broken in some way. I feel a little betrayed by my health practices. I wax high and low between wanting to go full on granola with my approach to my cancer treatment and thinking screw it, I got sick anyway. I'm pretty sure the balance is sort of somewhere in between, but I haven't quite gotten there yet. I look around my house and wonder if the plastic caused this. Is it because I use a cell phone? Is my Keurig dripping carcinogens into my coffee? Is my food really organic, or just another gimmick with more pesticides? Is my shampoo giving me cancer? Where did this crap come from??? And WHY, when I've worked SO HARD for my health, would this would happen?????? I want answers. WHO is responsible for doing this to my body. WHAT is causing this? HOW did this happen? WHERE was I negligent? I really want the answer to "WHY ME?!?!?!?!?"
I have no answers. I may never have answers. That, right there, is what you call, "embracing the suck." It's a favorite military line and it is so apropos.
UGH.
And while I am fighting this reality internally, my body hurts. I'm sorry, maybe that's just too much information. But I do. My body just hurts. It's probably one of the reasons I am up so early. In someways I'm bouncing back from the surgeries wonderfully. In other ways, I am so aware that my body is just not right. I can lay flat on a hard surface and everything feels out of whack. My left arm and shoulder constantly ache since they took my lymph nodes out. I cannot get comfortable. And. I. Simply. Hate. Pain. Medicine. My guts feel rearranged. My mind feels fuzzy and my hands shake. My body, mind and soul feel completely at odds with each other. I need a serious realignment. Where is God's chiropractor?
I know the things I can and need to do. I'm sharing with you my thoughts and feelings. If I put these things aside, I am an intelligent person, and I know the health care field well. I know what I can do and things that will help. I'm just not thinking very clinically right now. I know that I can go to the chiropractor, or the massage therapist, or the acupuncturist. I can try essential oils and yoga and relaxation breathing and prayer (all of which I do, do some of the time and in some sort of way), but honestly, sometimes it is hard to find the time to do any of this when you are fielding phone calls from case managers, nurses, surgeons, movers, oncologists, work and then there is laundry to be done, or naps to take, and sometimes just getting out of bed. My body needs many more hours to heal and I am impatient with that process. Clinically, I know what I need. I know this is a matter of time, but at my heart, in my inner core: I Don't Have Time for This! And there lies my inner struggle.
I have yet to give in, or embrace my new reality. I am still fighting it tooth and nail. I want to wake up tomorrow (not at 3 am though) and it to be gone. And I mourn that it will not just go away. I feel like I have a big, fat label on my forehead.
Folks, in the psychological realm of things, I am somewhere between denial and grieving. It's a stage. A season. It will pass and there will be a new season. One of acceptance. The new season will be for the warrior. I know it's in me. She's just very tired right now. A little sore and a little beat up. It will come. Just not today, and maybe not tomorrow, but soon.
And as 3 am turns into 6 (it takes awhile to write these days) am, and I pour my coffee into one of my favorite cups, I'm buoyed by its message, "Goonies, never say die."
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