Dear Body

Dear Body,

I don’t know exactly when I began to lose my trust in you, but I vividly remember the moment all trust was shattered. I remember how you had annoyed me with random aches and pains, and a myriad of problems through my teenage years, but you still allowed me to work out intensely at the gym and lift quite a lot of weight in the form of furniture.

Survivorship is Hard

Survivorship is hard. It never goes away. You always live a bit on the edge, wondering what will happen next. Or even if you’re going to make it through the day. I’m by myself. Live by myself, drive by myself, flying solo (to the shock of the friendly Costco lady today). If I didn’t respond to any messages and wasn’t online for 24 hours my coworkers Daniel and Savannah would check in on me. But that’s a long time. 

There is No End to the Guilt

The guilt eats away at you. I’m coming up on 10 years post-transplant. I ask less now, “Why am I alive?” but feel more the guilt of my life. The guilt of having a job and friendships and being able to live even a somewhat normal life. The weight of the guilt is crushing. 

I was at the Thanksgiving service where J shared the excitement that the cancer was in remission. She and her husband both kindly patted my shoulder on their way to speak at the front. But what was I to say? Congratulations?

The Weight of Surviving

I’m shaking. Scrunched in the middle seat of a plane. Somewhere over Canada, I think. Happily watching From Scratch as I drink my Iceland glacier water and eat my German hot dog pastry. I love these new Netflix shows. Women of color falling in love with European men. A dream of mine, really. And so cheerful to watch—till his knee hurts, and I’m wondering what surgery he will need.

Stage Four Sucks

Some days it feels like it’s been ten years, other days it feels like it has been just hours. January 10, 2012. The day I was diagnosed with Stage 4 Nodular sclerosis Hodgkin’s lymphoma. The “good cancer.” The “best one to choose.” The “highest success rate” cancer. Well, some days it freaking doesn’t feel like it. Like last night, when I barely had the strength to climb the stairs into my house and collapsed onto the couch for hours.

Supported and Surrounded

I sat on the crisp white sheets of my friend’s bed, scrolling through my phone. Suddenly, my face felt wet and my hand pulled away from my nose, covered in blood. I sprung from the bed so as not to sully the new sheets, dashed to the sink and stuffed paper towel after paper towel in my nose.

Faith is a Feeling

It’s late at night, but I feel like writing. Throughout my day I’ve scrolled through The Cancer Patient Instagram stories. The topic has been primarily centered around religious people, and the stupid things they’ve said and the myriad of ways we’ve been hurt by them.

Cancer Follows Me Everywhere

I’m heading home after my first date in Boston. Normally my dating app M.O. has ten steps that include texting, phone calls, and other precautions before an in-person meeting. But something was different with this guy.

We’re All a Little Lost

It’s the holiday season, and Santa Claus is coming ‘round… so begin the lyrics to a very cheerful Christmas song, about Santa helping us celebrate the holidays. But sitting here, in a borrowed house because my family is quarantined due to breakthrough COVID and I can’t be with them, with sunlight streaming through the window onto the artificial hyacinth, I’m feeling anything but cheer.

It Never Ends

Life recently has been non-cancer focused, for once! I recently took a new position in my company, finally moved away from the hospital and city I was sick in and am generally doing healthy young adult things. Record scratching screeching stop.