Between Pineapple & Back Pain; The World Moves On

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Life is such an interesting, complex, and multilayered aspect of existence. As babies, we enter this world, some of us came into this world with our very first battle cry. Some surpass due dates, some come early and fight for their strength. As our years progress, we move along in this vast existence, learning, growing, developing our personalities, our tastes. We gain talents, we learn emotions. For some, goals, dreams, and ambitions come with ease. Different aspects can lead to that ease. Money can be one very recognized help when it comes to seeking out and obtaining those sacred hopes and dreams. As long as health stays on your side. But what happens when your immune system goes through gauntlet after gauntlet, beating your body down?

Externally, one can see peers, friends, family, acquaintances, and really, the whole world as they continue along the linear plane of existence. Graduations, degrees, careers, travel, meeting the love of their life, marriage, births, first homes, seeing the world around you Progressing.

For me, the first cancer diagnosis came by complete accident. I was in the best shape of my life as I worked for a local grocery store as a sous chef. No gym membership needed, which was a great plus with my job. I rushed around, carrying large tubs of produce, salsa, guacamole, fruit trays, veggie trays and more. It even had me eating healthier.

One day, as I was heading into a holiday weekend in northern Utah; I was rushing to finish an order that the night shift hadn’t completed. Normally, when a piece of food is dropped, it is kicked under the prep table until the end of the shift. My newbie crew member had forgotten to do so with a piece of pineapple and as I was speed walking to the waiting customers, my nonslip shoes… well, they slipped and down I toppled, still attempting to save the newly finished vegetable tray, as my left shoulder ran straight into the edge of a metal plated wall. After a trip to work med found a partially torn AC in my left shoulder, my schedule was suddenly clear. Time to get my mole checked on my other bicep like my mom had been telling me for months. A biopsy was taken, I was doing the required physical therapy for my shoulder, I was excited for the upcoming college football game (season opener) so of course I needed gear to support my team!

As I was about to get out of my truck and head into the store, I checked my phone and my primary care doctor was calling… on a Saturday. Hesitantly, I answered my phone.

“Hello?” I said questioning.

“Am I speaking with Brittany?” Came my doctors voice from the other end.

“This is her.”

“Miss Wilson, this is (doctor’s name). We just got the results of your biopsy. Um… I wanted to call you right away as the results… well… you have Melanoma.”

His voice became distant as he continued speaking. In that moment… my world stopped. To a newly 21-year-old woman, the first thing that came to mind was losing my hair. I watched as all of my peers had their college experiences, some would go to clubs and got hangovers. The cocktails I received in the IV bags, they weren’t exactly the “fun” type. But those chemotherapy hangovers, were like ten too many drinks and made me sick as hell.

While they met colleagues and networked to cross the next bridge of their journey, I was sitting in an infusion room, hooked to several chemotherapy meds, joined by men and women of all ages, as we all fought that battle… in the hopes of more time. One particular day, after my third trip to the infusion room bathrooms, an old army veteran who had sat diagonal from me, took of his veteran cap, leaned over, and very tenderly said; “My dear, I have seen some of the worst of humanity… but I have never had to face the hell you face in here every day. You deserve this more than me.” That gesture has never left me. The respect we shared that day, is part of what kept inspiring me to continue fighting on. I was fortunate to have a handful of years after my all clear, to pay it forward via charity dressed in cosplay where I portrayed Captain Jack Sparrow and attended events for sick children. I helped them to make and build memories that we both saw as more meaningful than the rest of the world.

I have since retired from doing charity cosplay. It was becoming too painful to wear all of the costume layers, reenact things Captain Jack Sparrow might do, running his chaotic and iconic way, having sword fights, even kneeling down beside a wheelchair. The pain in my spine kept increasing but the doctors didn’t see anything every time I was in the ER. That went on for a few years before I made some major life changes and moved back to my mom’s place. In my mind, I had already postponed life for my health and there was no way I was going to feel stuck again. I was going to push through my body limitations and carry myself without the help from anyone else. Until I started having migraines that included black spots in my vision, blacking out, random nausea, bloody noses for hours, and finally, my vision went completely black one morning as I was getting ready for work. It was time to figure out what was REALLY going on.

My eye doctor took images, my family and I were moved to a consultation room, and the staff were acting differently. An hour went by without the doctor coming back in.

My friends were at work. My partner, taking her kids to and from school. The doctor came in with urgent orders to go to the ER. I had bleeding behind both of my retinas. Long story short, I was so anemic that everyone was shocked that I was even coherent. I got a 3hr VIP ambulance ride to a trauma one ICU. I was a real life episode of House! Teams of doctors and med students were in and out of my room, all asking if they could see my eyes. After a week, we had a diagnosis. Blood transfusions, bone marrow biopsies, spinal taps, labs, scans, sedation, platelets, plasma, staph infections, medication reactions, get well soon cards, baskets, flowers, visitors. And pity from the nursing staff, who all wondered if the next shift would find me gone. I hardly remember that whole month in the ICU. My work still kept going, management needed paperwork done. Then came the; “I’m sorry, we can’t find a way to keep you on… we will need you to come do final paperwork for your Resignation.”

The world moves on. It doesn’t stop when our bodies make our own life cycle slow to a near stop. Places of employment weigh their risk vs benefit and… you’re replaced within days. It feels like we get the bum end of the deal. But really, we learn the most important aspects of this journey. To live in the present. To know that no job is so important that we pay with our very Lives.

I still have days when I compare my present body to the one in my past, most days it is out of frustration, though I have been giving myself a bit more grace. Things that we all take for granted in good health, they become monumental accomplishments now. Sometimes victories are found in the once seemingly microscopic moments. While the world continued moving on… I was given the gift of slowing down. To see the things that are so much more meaningful in life but we are so often too distracted to acknowledge them… until our clock stills, the glass shatters, and we are free to dance our own choreography in the dance of life. The chance to enact change in some of the most beautiful ways. Sometimes, between the pineapples and back pain, the world moves on… but it is here that we gain the experience of the most epic of plot twists. The one where the world may go forward, but we find the beauty in slowing down.