5 Things cancer took and 5 things I gave myself
If I wanted to dwell on just how toxic cancer is, I could list hundreds of things it took from me. I could tell you a million things it took from my friends. But we don't go down that rabbit hole because there is nothing for us there. I'm sharing only these five things because I work to manage them every day, like a ghost that can't be banished.
Cancer took:
My Lack of worry/ Innocence- It's probably nothing. I'm sure everything is fine. The first time I saw an X-ray image of my knee, I giggled. "That looks kind of funny. What is going on with my bone?" Then the doctor cleared his throat and left the room, after which he whispered to the nurse in the hall, "please get in touch with Dr. Jones immediately. It's urgent." It felt like an out-of-body experience. There is no way they were talking about me. I was healthy, young, strong, and lucky. Since that moment, I cannot help but feel some of my innocence has faded away. I know that the rarest and darkest possibilities can happen to the best of us.
Literally anything spur of the moment-Last minute road trip? A day running errands that turns into a long day away from home? Not a chance. Every time I plan to leave my house for an extended period of time, I have to consider the battery life on my prosthesis and how much walking/standing I can do before my residual limb starts to ache and sweat enough for the entire prosthesis to slide off.
My body as I knew it-It goes without saying that my body has changed. I am missing the majority of my right leg. It took me a full year to walk past a full-length mirror and not see a stranger staring back at me. The scars, the ones you can see and the ones you can't, will always be there. I have worked HARD to appreciate my body after all we have been through together.
My Anonymity-Long gone are the days when I could leave my house without people staring at me as if they've just seen an alien casually shopping for laundry soap at target. Thankfully, I have reached a place where I can typically tune it out, and I shamelessly wear shorts and dresses as often as I did when I had two legs like the normies.
Pain-free long walks on the beach-Did you know that microprocessor prosthetics like the one I wear aren't waterproof? This means I have a bit more stability, but I can't take a stroll at the ocean's edge or enter a pool without taking it off. When it comes to walking long distances in general, pain, sweat, and level changes are all factors I have to consider. Long gone are the days when I could feel the sand between all ten toes as I waited for the tide to come wash it away.
What I gave myself:
Resilience-I have bounced back from some scary places, and I managed to escape with the majority of my positivity and light. Despite what I've seen, I am not cynical. I may be a bit more of a realist than I once was, but I manage to laugh far more than I cry.
An advanced knowledge of medical jargon- I can read a CT report about as well as any first-year Med student. I have learned to talk nurses through the best way to start an IV on me. I know how I respond to most pain/ nausea medications and how to combine them. I also know that sometimes, a low-grade tumor can look like heterotopic ossification on a scan. I am that person that yells out the diagnosis at the beginning of the grey's anatomy episode and then takes a bow when I'm right.
Glitter -I sparkle now. I leave a little glitter everywhere I go because if you have to wear a hunk of carbon fiber and robotic equipment, then you may as well shine bright like a diamond.
Confidence- I never imagined I would share so many details about my personal life with the world. Not everything I write about is pretty. It's raw, and so are some of the photos I've posted during my recovery. Everything I've been through has helped me find my power. My voice doesn't shake anymore. I know exactly who I am and what I have to offer. The journey was tumultuous, but the destination is a work of art.
The realization of just how fragile life is-
When we're young and have our health we procrastinate. We say someday we will take that trip. Someday we will mend that friendship that fell apart. We play it safe and hold back our feelings because we fear rejection or judgment. So many people wait for that magic moment, and then their life is over before it ever comes. When I was diagnosed with Osteosarcoma, suddenly, grudges weren't worth holding onto, dreams were worth chasing, and every ounce of life tasted sweeter.
