Once upon a time, I got on a bike and climbed a mountain. Not just any mountain, but a huge mountain- one that many people can't imagine climbing. Once I made it to the top of the mountain, it was time to ride down the other side for a short break, before climbing the next mountain that was in my path. As I began riding down the first mountain, I began going so fast that I couldn't even control the bike any longer. I knew if I put on the brakes I would fly over the handle bars, so I just held on and hoped that I didn't crash. While I was a little nervous about the quick trip down, I also hoped that the speed I had picked up on the way down would help me get at least partially up the next mountain without me even having to pedal. But that's not what happened at all. Instead as I got to the bottom- the valley between the two mountains- my chain fell off and I landed on my butt.
What?
Okay, so I haven't ridden a bike since I was a young child- that was just a comparison to what my journey has been like lately. I've been a little (ok a lot) hesitant to write this post because I am afraid that no matter how I put these feelings into words people will not understand. Only those who have walked in my shoes will be able to fully understand the feelings I am about to describe.
And here is my disclaimer...this post is not for sympathy, it is not a cry for help, but rather to help those of you following this journey know some of the emotions that go along with it, and maybe even to help someone else out there on the same journey as I.
So, chemo is finished, right? Yes. Hooray? Not really. (what?!?) How can I not be just completely ecstatic to be finished with chemo? Well, I am and I'm not. I am very excited that I do not have to go sit for 4 hours every week while the nurses pump my body full of poison, and I am very excited to not have to worry about the side effects of having that poison put in my body, HOWEVER finishing chemo has been the hardest part of this journey so far, emotionally speaking.
I thought I would be so glad to be finished that I would feel like I was on top of a mountain, a mountain that I had just climbed for the past 20 weeks and had finally made it to the top! But when the last day came, I found myself an emotional wreck. I was happy, sad, scared, worried, and just kind of bummed. Really? How is this possible? Am I crazy? What is wrong with me? One of my cancer sisters said it best in a text she sent me that morning..She told me that as long as I was going through chemo, I felt like I was fighting, but NOW WHAT? Now I wouldn't have a doctor checking on me and checking my blood work every week; I wouldn't see the nurses who always asked how I was doing; I wouldn't be actively fighting the cancer by allowing them to put chemotherapy in my body; and I wouldn't have as many people praying for me because many associate being finished with chemo to being finished with cancer and being finished fighting the battle.
And while I was happy to be finished with the chemo itself, missing the things that came along with the chemo is hard. Very hard. It may not make much sense to you, and that's okay. I remember reading about Robin Roberts talking about how she went into a depression when her treatments for breast cancer were finished. I remember thinking, "What is wrong with her? Is she crazy? How can she be depressed when she just kicked cancer's butt and made it through all of her treatments with a smile on her face?" Oh how wrong I was! I now FULLY understand how that happens. And thanks to some wonderful people I've met on this journey who DO understand exactly what I'm going through, I realize this is very common for many people to feel lost or depressed as they finish their treatments because now they are left to simply hope and pray that the cancer will not return, all while the fear and wonder are in the forefront of their minds, but there is nothing else left to do.
You know, Satan knows just when to put thoughts or fears in our minds. He doesn't do it when we're strong; he doesn't do it when we are optimistic and fighting like crazy. No, he finds us in our weakest moments and plants seeds of doubt, fear, and helplessness. For many with cancer, this time is when they have finished their treatments. It's the time when they aren't actively fighting with medication or radiation; it's the time when their bodies are tired from all of the treatments; and it's the time when many begin to stop praying for that person, because they think the "battle" is over.
It's at these moments that I know I have to Fully Rely on God, but it's not easy- especially for someone with a personality like mine where I want to be in control; I am independent; I can do it myself; I can fight this- just tell ME what to do and I'll do it. But when you hit those moments in life where it is completely out of your control and there's nothing YOU can do to fix it- it's scary. Really scary. Just give me a plan and let me follow it. It's black and white, right? No guessing. No gray areas. But what about when the checklist is finished? Now that's where the waters get muddy and FAITH and TRUST come into play.
I know I still have radiation in my near future, but this is where I've been for the past 2 weeks. Knowing I have to continue to trust in God, but afraid because I myself cannot specifically do anything to feel like I'm still fighting. To be honest, it's been quite a struggle. But I keep pressing on everyday. Taking it one day at a time- otherwise I get overwhelmed. And when I'm overwhelmed, the reality of Stage 3 cancer and all of the statistics that go with it get stuck in my mind like glue and it's hard to shake them.
So why am I sharing this? First, I've always promised to be open and honest in sharing this journey. It's not all smiles and roses. Some parts of this journey are hard, and some of them get you down. This is one of those times. Second, if you know someone with cancer (including me) please don't stop praying for them simply because they finished their treatments. In fact it's at that time that those people probably need your prayers the worst, because they will be at their lowest. It might not make sense, but trust me on this one.
My battle is not over. I have conquored a few surgeries, I have defeated chemo, but I am still fighting. I still have 36 radiation treatments looming in the near future (if my open incision will hurry up and heal), and more surgeries. But even more than that, I have the next 5+ years to do whatever I can to get healthy, exercise, and try to make sure this cancer doesn't come back.
And trust me, I will keep fighting- because just when I'm ready to throw in the towel because the reality, the statistics, the studies, the articles, and the doctors have me pinned down- God picks me up, brushes me off, gives me strength and hope, and send me back into the ring to finish the fight, and I don't go alone. Oh no, I'm not alone. For he is standing right by my side, ready to help guide me each step of the fight. And when I turn around, I see Jamie, my parents, my family, my friends, and my co-workers- all standing on the side of the ring, just waiting for me to tag their hand when I need a break. And best of all, right behind that army of people waiting to be tagged, I see my three precious children sitting in the front row- cheering as hard as they can, holding signs that say "Keep fighting Mom!" "We need you!" "We love you!" And when I look into their eyes, I know that I cannot give up, even for a minute. I must do whatever it takes to keep fighting as hard as I can to win this battle. And that's exactly what I'm going to do.
