If My Body Could Talk

I know we are in our 20s, but what the fuck are you thinking?! You cannot do this to me. I shall retaliate! You run around, going from one thing to the next. Rest is essential for me so I can heal and regenerate. You push your boundaries daily, and I am having a hard time keeping up. We need a hard reset.

Dear Ms. Anxiety,
We are now in our mid-20s, and your angst is overwhelming. I have decided to shut us down. For one week, you will not be able to move your left side. Don’t worry, it’s not a stroke. I know staying in a hospital and missing college isn’t exactly fun. However, it’s my way of ensuring you sit still and rest. I know, I know—it’s not convenient, but you are in your mid-20s; you will bounce back. Listen to the doctors.

Dear Idiot?
You continue to expose me to chemicals, germs, and too much stress. I am not loving this work schedule —where is the balance? I am getting tired of fighting and trying to keep everything running optimally. I am exhausted, haven’t I shown you that?! The food and drinks you consume are not the best, my friend. Going from zero to sixty and staying there is too much. I don’t think we can keep doing this. I don’t know how to tell you. You don’t seem to listen well. You get sick, and you fight through it instead of resting and letting me do my thing. Why do you think you have to be in control of everything?! I don’t understand. All these factors will cause a malfunction.

Dear Exhausted,
I am sick. Listen to me. No, headaches all the time aren’t normal. No, fatigue at this degree isn’t normal. Let’s keep going back to the doctors until someone listens. I am going to keep giving you warning signs. I don’t know what is happening, but please listen.

Dear Partner,
Here we are, kicking off our early 30s, and we have it. The big “C”. ***BIG SIGH *** Neither of us was planning for this, but I feel like I failed. I was so busy trying to keep us running on so little that it slipped past me. My defenses were down, but part of this is your responsibility. How many times did I warn you to be careful of what you consume, heavy metal in your water, gasoline additives in your water, not helpful—the amount of chemicals you put on your body, dear God. The body wash, deodorant, shampoo, lotion, make-up, nail polish, and the list goes on and on. Then you expose yourself to even more chemicals by spraying them everywhere?! Cleaning products, weed killers, and air fresheners, to name a few. Well, here we are. Let the adventure begin. I will give it my all. Please rest.

Dear Friend,
I am fighting; that poison you’re taking kills everything. Your emotions are everywhere. You cry and cry. Sorry about your hair, your skin, and the fact that you look like death, but you are still here. I know the nausea, headaches, and fatigue are challenging. These are all signs that I am still working. I don’t know what our future looks like. I know this isn’t how you planned your mid-30s.

Dear Ms. Anemic,
Some tumors are growing, and we need to remove them. I am trying to show you. Doesn’t the nonstop bleeding give you a hint? Listen to me!!! Go to the doctor and get the tests she is recommending. You can’t ignore this. Please don’t ignore me. Leukemia is enough; we don’t need cancerous tumors. I am pleading with you.

Dear Woman,
Feeling so much better that those tumors are gone. I know you can’t have children now, but you couldn’t with cancer. I know it feels like things have gone downhill quickly. I can feel the sadness and grief. I did my best. I hope you understand that I am always doing my best. I hope you start to do your best. Keep working on work-life balance. Make sure you’re giving me the good stuff to fuel me. I think you are beginning to listen to me.

Dear Ms. Doubtfire,
Oh Michelle. We are aging fast. These past few years of fighting this have worn me down. I know being forced into menopause wasn’t planned, but it wasn’t in my plan either. Now that complicates things a bit. I am trying to find a new balance. It gets a little hot in here with all this work. Being so young and in menopause isn’t ideal, but we’ll figure it out.

Dear Ms. Grumpy,
I heard you yesterday. Crying and yelling at me. Look, sagging boobs, acne, gray hair, it all comes with the territory. Yours is just a smidge worse because I am still fighting this stupid cancer that won’t go away. How much longer am I expected to fight this and keep everything running in tip-top shape?! You are asking too much. Please know I am trying my best. I know our early 40s feel like mid-50s, but we are still here. We should celebrate that.

Dear Ms. Pride,
Bruises, dark circles under the eyes, and pale skin are my way of telling the World how I feel. You can express yourself in other ways. Could you stop trying to hide it? It’s nothing to be ashamed of. Why do you get so upset? I don’t understand. A bunch of underfed, unhealthy, greedy people who work in corporations set the beauty standard. They aren’t inclusive. For the love of God, be inclusive, starting with us.

Dear Ms. Ungrateful,
Thanks for stopping the chemo. I don’t think I could’ve handled another round. You heard me and listened; I appreciate that. Here we are in our late 40s; the doctors gave us 5 years. How little did they know? The big ‘C’ is here to stay, so let’s figure out a way to co-exist. It’s been over 14 years. Parts are starting to fail; we need support. We need to shift gears. Let’s focus on rest and avoiding germs. I don’t have the energy to fight anymore. Naps are a thing now. Take your meds.

Dear Warrior,
I am sorry about the pain, but let me explain. I need you to know when you must absolutely stop and when you can go. I will tell you by putting you in pain. You will always be in some pain; understand and please accept this. As the pain increases, the need for rest and restorative sleep increases. Ignoring me will only make it worse. I know you are taking painkillers to handle it. I will process those; accordingly, however, please don’t completely numb the pain. The pain is a way of knowing I am still here. I am still here and FIGHTING.

Dear Michelle,
I am impressed with all the changes you have made. I wish you had made them sooner. We are starting to break down and lose stamina. Don’t be scared, it just means I am focusing on something else at the time. I can’t give what I used to. Please understand. The next stage is different. Accept the help. Say, “yes” when someone offers to do something. We are now aging with cancer on top of more than a dozen other diagnoses caused by the wear and tear of things. I am not giving up, I am just tired. I know you are still fighting, but remember, you are not in control. I am. ***BIG SIGH***

*Cover image is original artwork by the author.
“Living Inside Exposure”
This piece represents cancer traveling through my body while I continue to resist the toxic forces surrounding me. The C in the heart stands for cancer, being pumped throughout my system. The red shows disease moving through systems meant to sustain life. The yellow layers represent my body’s ongoing effort to protect itself—imperfect, strained, but persistent. The black outer form names the environmental pressures that cannot be escaped, only endured. The black in my hand is the toxins I have exposed myself to either by accident or through consumption of products that contain cancer causing agents. This is not a body untouched by illness, but one that continues to fight for health.