Going Through Something…

I’ve been experiencing something. I don’t know what to call it, maybe a depression, but not really. Patti could have told me it was coming. It happened to her daughter. You can’t describe it. You’re angry; you’re sad; you’re scared; I guess you’re grieving. It doesn’t make sense after the high of being called a survivor by your oncologist, but what about cancer does make sense? After proving I could be bigger than life…Superwoman, Wonder Woman, whatever it was I was trying to prove…disfurging surgery, horrible chemo, and 25 daily radiation treatments. Barely missed any work, taught all my university classes, ended a relationship with the only man I’ve ever loved, took little to no vacation, hardly skipped a beat, did not pass go, did not collect $200…Where did it leave me…in a funk. Kind of like an old Sinatra song …I was riding high in April (Fabuloso Survivor preparing for Race for the Cure), shot down in May…However, unlike Sinatra’s words, I did not change that tune, I was not back on top, back on top in June. At least, when nothing was shakin’ come this here July, I didn’t roll myself up in a big ball and die. I wanted to roll myself up though and just drop out. I saw Dr. Manno at the end of June and asked him about how I was feeling. I said, “Just tell me it’s normal, and I’ll be fine.” When I had my meltdown the night before Teresa and Elliott’s wedding, both Kathi and Krista said I should see a counselor. I asked Dr. Manno about that, too. Basically, he said what I’m going through is normal. He mentioned scenarios of other patients. He said if I spiraled down any further to come back, and he could put me on drugs. He said he didn’t think I would want to do that because I’m a teacher, and I depend on a clear head for thinking, reading, and teaching. He’s right; I don’t want to take drugs to feel better. He said I could get hooked up with the counselor at Nevada Cancer Institute, but I didn’t do that either. I’ve, of course, researched “Grief after Breast Cancer” and it did help to know that it really does exist. I do believe I have it, grief that is, well, now I think I can say I had it. I could not write during all of this time because of how I felt. I was afraid of what would come out of my head, my heart, and my fingertips if I wrote about how I felt. Now, I can. I was resentful of how I looked for the wedding…short grey hair with no bangs to cover my forehead…But then I would think that a year ago I didn’t think I’d be around for the wedding, so I should be happy with my ugly hair because at least I have hair. During the last few months, it was impossible not to think back to…last year at this time…yadayadayada. When the fourth of July came, it was the anniversary of having what was left of my hair buzzed off…not happy memories, but, ah, I’m around to think of them, right? So, I just filled my days with work and my evenings with back-to-back summer school classes three nights a week. I spent the weekends on the couch; and now I believe I’ve recovered…maybe. Some magical new something got a hold of me today, and I’m not in a funk. I know it will never be completely gone. I imagine that’s the life of a person who’s experienced cancer…always scared that it will come back, always that little voice asking, “Why me?” Dr. Manno says to just not ask that question; there is no, “Why me?” I didn’t do anything to deserve it; it just happened to me. So, I’m out of the something I was going through. Each time I find myself laying flat on my face, I just pick myself up and get back in the race…Thanks, Frank. And, Thanks be to God.