While I am in Arizona visiting one daughter, the other daughter is taking the wheel of Silver Linings this week. I’ve been writing about Annie’s ordeal this past year, but here is her experience—in her own words.
By all accounts I have had a pretty textbook-terrible past year. If this Past Year had submitted a resume to apply for a job I would be aghast. “How?” I would ask…”How did you do all of these awful things in just one year?” They would shrug and defend themselves with, “Yes, but there was that good day when there were snacks.” And I would have to nod my head and agree with Past Year. That was a good day.
Clearly the past few years have not been anyone’s favorite time. The disaster that was 2020 slid into 2021 bringing its own special mayhem and then 2022 followed along and was just like, “Yeah, I get it, let’s just get this over with.” My friend put it well when she said 2020 was the year that the rug was pulled out from under us…but 2021 was when we fell on our faces. So I guess 2022 is the year I try to stop the nosebleed from falling on my face but since I went through early menopause because of chemotherapy I don’t have any tampons to shove up my nose now. But let me backtrack a little bit.
In the summer of 2021 I was in the best shape I had maybe EVER been in. I had been on Noom for a bit and it proved to definitely be effective; the yoga I did every day was doing some really good things for my body. I felt healthy, I felt strong. I also felt a lump. Because of the weight loss my breasts had gotten a little smaller (but looked GREAT) and I attribute their shrink to my being able to feel the lump early. I waited a little bit to see if there were any changes with my cycle, but when it remained, I made an appointment with my doctor. I was so convinced it was nothing, I didn’t tell anyone. Finally, a couple of days before my appointment I let my husband and mom know I was going to get something checked out, but assured them, it’s really probably nothing. The drawn out visits, first to check it out, then a mammogram, then an ultrasound, then a talk about a biopsy, and then finally a biopsy, were the longest days of all. And then, it was something.
At first I was diagnosed with Stage 1. Fine. But then it changed to Stage 2, Grade 3 Triple Negative Breast Cancer. Oof. I wondered if the swag bags at the cancer center had better stuff in them if you have a more dire diagnosis. I quickly went into planning mode, scheduling procedures that would allow me to start chemotherapy quickly as Triple Negative is an aggressive form of Breast Cancer. I had one week to get an EKG, a bone scan, and a port implant. One of the nurses at the cancer center even said I’m basically a professional appointment scheduler (don’t be jealous). Directly following the first treatment we found that I am very allergic to one of the drugs in my plan, Carboplatin. I broke out in a rash all over my back and torso, but mostly it was a LITERAL pain in my ass, if you know what I mean.
It’s funny what you think your breaking point might be. I don’t think we give ourselves enough credit. We can handle so much more than we think we can. We might not LOVE it but we can do it. It’s bearable. During these past 10 months I have stayed singularly focused on just moving forward. And that everything is fine. Because it is. Comparatively speaking, my side effects could have been SO MUCH WORSE. So if on any given day I wake up and everything is fine, nothing is broken or hurting too much and my family is all healthy and safe, how bad can it be?
Don’t get me wrong, I have come face to face with several of my own “series of unfortunate events” even within this otherwise traditionally tough time. A week and a half after I started chemotherapy and was still dealing with rashy symptoms, my mom and I traveled to an event in Hartford. We were a little late so I found the closest parking garage and popped in. We got through the main entrance, grabbed a ticket, and then immediately slowed down when we heard a grinding sound. We looked at each other, wondering what that terrible sound could be, when it dawned on me that we had never taken the car carrier off the top of our car after vacation. It was truly embarrassing but also concerning; if we moved backward or forward we could potentially take out the garage’s sprinkler system. We made it into a nearby space without too much more damage. Post event, after realizing I didn’t have the keys to remove the carrier, we had to borrow a saw and cut the carrier off of the top of my car. During the extraction, I received an alert that I had lost power at my house, so with the car freed from the car carrier (or the other way around) we headed back to my home. I had to check on the cats and make sure they were ok during the outage and then go back to my mom’s where they still had power. The next morning I hopped in the car to swing by my house and check on it before work. I don’t think I could have been prepared to wade through that foot of water in my basement and with everything else that was going on, I think I was more stunned than anything. And yet, it wasn’t my breaking point.
Much like several weeks ago when I developed colitis as a side effect from immunotherapy, was finally cleared for radiation but then also got shingles on my face and scalp…and then I got Covid, which I’m pretty sure I gave to everyone else (I’m still super sorry about that everyone). Things will keep happening to you, good and bad, but you have to just keep going. This was what my friend said when we were both recounting our recent weeks and it really resonated with me. It’s all bearable. When I check in with myself I realize, this isn’t awful. It’s not great, of course, but it’s bearable. You might be in this place too, where nothing is so bad, really, but maybe it’s not incredible either. I think a lot of us are in the gray bearable place right now, no matter what is going on.
There is a quote that I have always referred to, shared with others, and reminded myself of in times like these: “You go through big chunks of time where you’re just thinking, ‘This is impossible – oh, this is impossible.’ And then you just keep going and keep going, and you sort of do the impossible.” This is the ever wise and incredible Tina Fey. And she’s right. It’s all overwhelming but if you keep going, think of everything you can and do accomplish and get through. And then you can obviously brag about it after and act like it’s no big deal.
Whoops, gotta go, now my kid has Covid. Because…obviously.
I would like to say, 'You are your mother's daughter!' But the truth is you are your own unique voice expressing beautifully an incredibly difficult time! Thank you for putting your won words out into the world. They are deeply moving and incredibly strong!
Oh Annie… this is such a wonderful and awful post! Those of us who know and love your mother and have come to presume that we know and love you too through this whole ordeal are so grateful to hear your voice, chuckle at your humor, and be inspired knowing that yes, with people like you in the world, things are bearable. Thank you thank you