Alright listen.
Cancer sucks.
Like hard core.
Today is supposed to be this joyous anniversary of the day, two years ago, that I finally heard the golden words, "You're cancer free."
Except today hasn't been much of a celebration.
It's just been hard.
Lemme tell ya about my year.
Hang on, it's a roller coaster.
Last August. We celebrated one year of being cancer free.
I had hair, I was a freaking attractive individual, and I felt good about my life.
Isn't that always how it goes?
You feel good, you take it for granted, and suddenly something happens.
October. I started to feel tired and nauseous.
It scared me.
Listen, I get freaked every time I cough like "WHAT IF I HAVE COUGHING CANCER" which isn't even a thing but my brain is pretty sure it is.
So to feel crummy in general freaked me out more than a little.
November. I had an upcoming routine oncologist appointment.
I knew it was going to be bad.
I felt so sick.
The night before my appointment, I went to a home evening.
Because, ya know, handsome men.
The conversation turned into a chain of how people were grateful for cancer.
It was probably really touching except for the fact that it was the literal worst.
I ran out of the room and sobbed.
The Tuesday before Thanksgiving.
I had my appointment.
The blood work confirmed it.
I had a PET/CT scan the next day.
I knew it wasn't good.
Doc confirmed it.
"Almost certain the cancer is back and this time, it's a 50/50 chance of survival."
"One and a half years of treatment."
"Nothing we can do right now - just watch and wait."
Oh cool. I'll just wait here. It's fine. Really, it's fine.
December. I told very few people.
I cried and tried not to be scared.
I didn't sleep.
I ate a whole lot of Christmas cookies.
I researched new therapies.
I waited.
January. More tests and blood work.
More waiting.
More sleepless nights.
More exhausted days.
More tears in the car.
Also the inversion which in and of itself probably causes cancer, but I had already checked that box, so that was a relief.
February. PET/CT scan.
I knew it wasn't good when my oncologist called me two minutes after school ended.
It was the day of parent/teacher conferences.
"There are three new tumors."
"We need to do a biopsy."
Have you ever curled into the fetal position and sobbed in your work chair?
I have.
"Yes, ma'am, your son can still turn in his essay and get full credit."
March. Biopsy was inconclusive.
Ultrasounds.
Tests.
Twenty doctors discussing what on earth was happening with me.
Waiting.
Very heated conversations with God.
"Excuse you, God, but I have an idea and it's called you stop giving me cancer."
I was so tired. So sick. So sick and tired of being sick and tired.
April. I woke up one morning and didn't feel as tired.
I started eating normal meals.
I stopped napping after school every day.
My heart started to hope.
We booked a trip to Jamaica with travel insurance, because come June I would either be on a beach or going through chemo.
It was a toss up.
May. I felt good.
For the first time in six months, I didn't feel sick.
I tried not to hope.
I avoided packing for Jamaica.
Took a day off and had my scan.
Read the results online.
Copied and pasted the results into google. #Englishmajor #nomedicalexperience
It looked good?
May 21. Meeting with my oncologist.
By the way, I'm his favorite patient. It's normal.
"Well, Tina, at least you're consistent. Your results always confuse me."
...Like...in a good way?
"I can't explain it. At all. But your last scan shows no signs of cancer."
...I'm sorry, excuse you? Because it sounded like you were saying I don't have cancer anymore and I just really need you to mean that if you're going to say it.
"Tina. The scan shows the three tumors are gone. And the other tumor shows no signs of lymphoma. It looks like we did chemo."
...BUT LIKE HOW. If this is a joke I will literally hit you in the face.
"I don't know how. But I'm 99% sure you're just fine."
Went home and packed for Jamaica.
Cried the whole time.
"Hey God...Thanks."
June. JAMAICA.
Southern Utah.
Boston. Maine. Rhode Island.
Mexico.
California.
The whole time, I was pinching myself.
How was this even possible? How is my cancer gone? What did I do to deserve this miracle?
I know, right. A heck of a year. So today, when I was supposed to celebrate being cancer free, I felt sad and like I failed because I didn't make it to two years without the cancer coming back. I felt guilty for getting a miracle when others haven't. I felt happy to be alive. I felt terrified because I had an oncologist appointment this afternoon. Just, ya know, a hot mess express of emotions over here.
I don't even know why I'm writing this, other than I don't want it to be a secret anymore. There's power in being vulnerable. Yes, my cancer came back. Yes, I was sick and miserable and I hid it. That's how I chose to survive. Yes, I live in fear that I'll wake up and feel sick again. Yes, by some miracle, I'm okay for now. Yes, I'm finally ready to talk about it. Ask me anything! I dare you! I accept that cancer is going to be a part of my life. And guess what? I think that's kind of beautiful. There's a sort of magic in living all-in and staring death in the face.
I didn't want to celebrate today, but my wonderful friend bought me roses and made us do shots (of the Martinelli variety #obviously), and she said, "I mean, it's been a crappy year, but it's one more year." I'm so grateful I get to be 26. I'm so grateful that I'll get to see the leaves change this fall. I get to laugh and cry and feel miserable and beautiful and powerful all at the same time. This life is so messy and I love it. I mean, listen, I plan on living to be 109, and I'm sure as hell going to make the most out of every one of those days.
#miracleshappen
#onceinawhile
#whenyoubelieve
