The lakes close for boating on the 30th so Chris wanted to go out one more time before winterizing his boat. He invited me. I said ‘yes.’ I said ‘yes’ because I’m trying to be sure to say ‘yes’ to things more now than before. It wasn’t my plan for the day but that’s another thing I’m trying to do more now than before…be okay with a last minute change of plans. And I’m glad I did. Out on the water, cold as it was, was beautiful. No devices. No distractions. No excuses. Quality time and quiet, my husband, me and the dog. We talked. He taught me about something that really matters to him. We laughed. We connected.
So, I’m not gonna lie. Cancer (and from my perspective, beyond cancer in and of itself, breast cancer) is brutal on a marriage. Everything has to change. I have had body parts amputated and others removed (and yes, those are two different things). I have massive nerve damage and loss of feeling across a large portion of my body. The emotional and psychological trauma we have both experienced from each side of the story is not without marring ramifications. Diagnosis and treatment is stupid hard for the patient. For the caregiver…..well, I can’t imagine (nor do I ever want to have to live it) but I think it’s stupid hard, too. Surviving follows in those same footsteps. It’s confusing, that is for certain. For each the patient and the caregiver, differently complicated, differently difficult…our marriage seeing things it won’t ever be able to unsee. And we can’t just ‘pick up where we left off,’ it doesn’t work that way. This hasn’t been some twilight zone/wrinkle in time experience. . . . .
All of this was heavy on my mind today while we were out together on the water. The both+and of being so grateful for each other…me on my side of cancer, he on his…and also both pained by what the cancer monster has selfishly claimed as its own.
*Post 968
Trenches :: 11/27/17 :: Post 91
There is a low-ness that I feel. An exhaustion so deep. And while I have some good things to say about day 8, I feel heavy.
I’m in the trenches. …I’m in the thick of it. Life is happening all around me…but I feel bogged down and sluggish. It’s almost like running in water…little ground is covered despite massive effort. Progress is still made but at an all-time-high output.
My body is slow. My mind is weary. My heart is burdened.
Feel :: 11/27/18 :: Post 440
Another interesting tension…
I’ve never been so broken and so strong together at the same time.
I saw a picture on facebook of some stranger with a chemo beanie and her port was accessed. And I thought…wow. That is me, too. I’ve been chemo-bald. I’ve had a port in my body that would have a needle stabbed into it. I’ve experienced chemo-fog, fatigue, and the death of so many things. I’ve been burned by radiation. I’ve been on the operating table more than I ever thought.
I wake up every day and feel cancer. I go to sleep every night and feel cancer. Whoa.
Gratitude Month Day 27 :: 11/27/19 :: Post 803
2017, I was in the trenches and I wrote about what that was like. Progress was being made, sure, but at the slowest possible pace.
In 2018, I wrote about how I’d never been so broken and so strong together at the same time.
Today, many trenches later and much progress made, my body is in a new battle for wellness; and thankfully, it remains resilient despite the feeling of brokenness that comes with every move. Case and point, I was driving around with Chris today and the roads were terrible following the massive storm that rolled through yesterday. Never have I felt every single turn and bump and jolt than I did today…my body, in its current, constant pain, felt like it had been beaten up by the time we got home from our errands. Ugh. Yet, Gratitude Month Day 27 – I am full of gratitude for the realization that I can hold both the devastation and the transformation together…that I get how they lend to one another…and that I understand how to acknowledge both…