I wanted the journey to end with the words “cancer free” but unfortunately it was only the beginning.
Now, I want off the roller coaster. I want to change my path, but there is no fork in the road, only walls on either side. I want to be done with this endless journey. I want to at least smell roses while I stroll. I smell only rotting thistles while they scratch and tear at my skin.
I want to make my dreams come true. I effortlessly create them and watch as they blossom with radiant enthusiasm, beautifully imaginative, wild and free, fulfilling and blissful. Then they dry out, wither, decay, and rot instantaneously. I want my dreams not my nightmares.
I want to type these words without my hands buzzing and going numb. I want to think without having to claw through vines of pain. I want to speak without stumbling and stuttering. I want this to be easy. I want an answer, just one answer. I want a door to open. I want a chapter to close. I want... I want...
I want my wants, my plans, and my dreams to magically open a fork in the road. A door in the wall. A “The End” in my book of medical journeys.
It matters that I do not want this new-but-old body. It matters that I utterly loathe the road I am on. It matters that I will erupt if one more diagnosis is added to my laundry list of illnesses (7 to be exact). It matters, it is real, it is heartbreaking, but it does not take it away. I can explode, or implode, or blow, or pop, or flee, or fly, or scream, or sob, or rage, or run. I can and I have, but the list stands resolute. My wants indeed matter, but in the end, they make no difference at all.
I want to say I will still move forward. I want to say I will push myself even though I am down. I want to say I will fight with whatever little strength I have.
But the truth is, I am so very tired of moving, pushing, and fighting.
Sometimes I choose to move forward and fight, and sometimes I raise a white flag. But, I don’t like talking about those white-flag days because they are complicated. Until very recently I thought that white flag was a horrible sign of defeat, and if I let myself sink into despair (which I have) it honestly can be, but it doesn’t have to be. Raising the flag is still a movement, not forward, or back, or up, but down. It is sitting and accepting the sadness, the exhaustion, the pain, the hurt, and the unstoppable change that is happening to me. It’s mourning, it’s crying out, it’s resting, but it is not defeat. Because, while I rest, I dream of a better day, a day when my heart is healed enough from the pain and exhaustion that I have strength to stand up and take a step forward.
Now I want you, my friends, to know that sometimes the journey doesn’t end when the crisis is over, when the cancer is defeated, when the storm subsides, when the news fades. I don’t want you to know it just for my sake, but for that friend of yours who lost a loved one last year, or that relative who had surgery a few months ago, or a close friend that you know was going through a very tough time a while back and you haven’t heard from in a while. The journey may seem over, and maybe it is over, but for so many, it only began with that crisis and the journey of healing may take a lifetime. Check in on them even months after the get well casserole is eaten, or the gofundme money sent, or the sympathy card mailed. If they are like me, they may have a smile plastered on their face just to keep their sanity in place, but inside they are trying to fight, or push, or move forward, but it can be unspeakably exhausting and they may need rest and a friend like you. Tell them you are still there and you still care for them, and let them take the lead.
As of late my health issues have, unfortunately, been increasing, which I am sure you could piece together from the above ;) The issues that have cropped up range from carpel tunnel in both of my hands to severe brain fog to muscle spasms and cramps, and all sorts of fun stuff in between. Most are due to having hypoparathyroidism, others are from not having a thyroid, others are a combination of the 2 at war with one another, and quite frankly others my doctors and I don't know where it's coming from yet. I really have no idea if there will be a "better tomorrow" or cure for me, but I am learning to very slowly take each day with a tiny baby step in the right direction and be proud of small accomplishments. What that means right now is many doctors visits, self care, and caring for my family. No matter what challenges I am facing right now I am and always will be so deeply grateful that I was able to kick cancer's butt, and given the choice I would definitely do it all again even though this horrible journey began as a very rare and unfortunate result of the cure.
One "baby step" and act of self care I have started is "clean eating" consistently and I have found that my body is actually a lot happier when eating hearty and whole foods. To be clear, dieting is not my thing like... AT ALL, lol, but I am at an awkward point where I realize that having some sort of eating regimen is really the only viable long term option I have to keep my body healthy. Why I like this style of eating more than others is because it does allow for some flexibility in regards to baked goods. For example... this whole wheat sandwich bread! I found the recipe from this lovely blog, adapted it a teensy bit to fit my own personal preferences, and have been trying to make it weekly for my family of sandwich and toast eaters. I hope you enjoy this recipe and please remember to reach out this week to someone you know who is on a difficult journey, a simple gesture of care can give more hope than you know!
Whole Wheat Sandwich Bread
Ingredients
6 cups whole wheat flour
2 1/2 cups warm water (between 105-110 degrees)
1 1/2 tbsp instant active dry yeast
1/3 cup honey
1/3 cup sunflower oil
2 1/2 tsp. salt
Directions
Grease 2 loaf pans with sunflower oil and set aside.
Combine water, yeast, and 2 cups of the flour in the mixing bowl of a stand mixer. Set aside to sponge for 15-20 minutes, until risen and bubbly (warmer weather takes 15 min, cooler temps usually needs 20).
Add honey, oil, salt, and 4 cups of flour. Mix with a paddle attachment until dough starts to clean sides of bowl. Change to dough hook (or turn out to knead by hand), and knead 6 to 7 minutes (10 by hand).
Form into two loaves and place into prepared loaf pans. Allow to rise in a warm place for about 60 minutes, or 15-30 min. longer if needed to reach 1/2 to 1-inch above pans (i.e., cold kitchens may need the longer time). Preheat oven to 350 degrees ten minutes before rising time is done.
Bake for 30 minutes, rotating halfway through if needed.
Immediately remove from pans to cool on a rack. Allow to completely cool before slicing.