Not really an update

...more of a random cancer thought.

I'm patiently (read impatiently), awaiting for a pathologist in an unknown lab to look at the DNA of my tumor. If the tumor responds to chemo therapy then I will need four rounds over 12 weeks. Medical technologies and advances are amazing! 

I'm at a place where I understand the chemo would actually be a good thing. Though I remember all too clearly how chemo affected my mother, my biggest fear is very simple...what will I look like without my Frida Kahlo eyebrows? 


#readyforwhatever

Cupcakes and Rainbows

My daughter has been really into the movie Trolls lately.  Princess Poppy (a main character in the movie) believes life is all cupcakes and rainbows.  I like to believe in cupcakes and rainbows, but the truth is the pain is real and the sadness is deep.  

I want to be open and honest about my experience, which means not denying the physical and emotional pain.  There is a limit to what I can do.  I can't drive a car and I struggle to take a shower on my own.  Like clockwork, I can tell by the numbness and pain when it is time for my next dose of pain medicine.  Now 20 days out, I'm afraid of Chronic pain. I'm afraid of what will get better and what will be for life.  I am also afraid of the surgeries I have ahead and the future pain that will inevitably come.  I try to tell myself that the worst is over and I survived it, so I can handle anything that comes along, but with each day I'm more frustrated and more exhausted.  

The shower is where I cry, not only out of frustration on my physical limitations, but because my body is so altered. This is not my body.  It's damaged and ugly.  I find myself hiding from my daughter. I don't want her to be traumatized by the huge scars and deformities.  I am not use to feeling this shame for my body.  These battle scars are bigger and more defining than any of the ones in the past.    

And then...I remember that I'm on a journey of love. It isn't always easy to get to that place of cupcakes and rainbows. Sometimes it is good to allow myself to mourn the loss of my cancer-free self, but the love that surrounds me keeps me grounded.  It keeps me fighting.  That love comes in so many forms.  It is my husband washing my hair; it is an old friend dropping off a fruit salad, lavender oil and tea; it is a far-away-friend sending me superhero fuzzy socks; and it is an empowered Latina reminding me que soy chingona.  The love comes in the meals that are delivered daily and the new years card with a wonder woman stamp and a note "that's you." The countless acts of kindness have been seemingly endless, and they have saved me! 

My journey of love has not been alone, even if I feel lonely at times.  I know that early detection and aggressive surgery has saved my life, but I also know that kindness and love have saved me over and over again.  So like Princess Poppy, I know that life is not always cupcakes and rainbows, but I am choosing to continue on thinking it mostly is, even in those gray moments of darkness and pain.