It’s the first of October and it’s 3 in the afternoon and I’m sitting here wondering how it got to be already. For the last 5 years I’ve eagerly, ok not eagerly, but I’ve been into Pinktober and sharing my story and those stories of friends. It’s breast cancer awareness month.
I’m sitting here and I just can’t. I can’t find the motivation to go dig out my tutus. To share more. To help people understand what a survivor looks like or share my story. Celebrate with other survivors or thrivivors.
I have nothing planned, I haven’t signed up for the Strides Against Breast Cancer, my favorite walk of the entire year. My tutus are still in the closet, waiting for me. I’venot signed up to help the Carey Foundation.
The struggle this year. It’s not just physical. It’s so much.
I’ve been cancer free for 2 years now. Which totally rocks. It does. I’m alive. The guilt is hard. Not only survivor guilt, it’s also, the guilt for complaining. Telling the doctor “hey you saved my life and that’s cool. Now please fix all the shit you broke” seems so rude.
My Doctor, she’s cool and seems to completely get it. So she understands the angst and stress. She listens to my tears and confusion. Gently, trying to help with the 75 extra pounds from all the meds, the mood swings, the nerve damage and the lymphedema. She doesn’t want me to be guilty, she wants to help me transition into my new normal, learn who I am now.
For the most part, I laugh and snark about the new ladies (My plastic surgeon is amazing and gave me pretty new boobs) and the kray meds that help keep the cancer away, with the nerve damage. The swollen everything and joints that act like they are 120 years old instead of 43 years young.
Today. Ok, last month, it’s been rough. I get out of bed each day and consider that a success. So, I’m just not ready to put on my sparkly tutu. I’m thankful to be alive, today is just one of those days that doesn’t sparkle.
Whether you love or hate Pinktober. Cancer sucks. We’ve all been touched or know someone with cancer. The battle doesn’t end when the cancer does. Pink isn’t going to help that. Maybe, tho, it will help someone smile. Help someone get a mammogram. Help someone get out of bed.
Look for me and my tutus soon!