Elephants and Tea - September 2022 - 23

The Courage of Vulnerability COVER STORY
I
remember the sounds
of the door squeaking
at my very first oncology
appointment. I
remember the smell of a
cleaning agent that was
too strong and the undeniable
odor of rubbing
alcohol and hand sanitizer. I remember
the snap of rubber gloves being squeezed
on hands. The loud crinkle of the paper I
scooted back onto.
I had just turned 34 years old three weeks
prior and had found this teeny tiny bump
on the right side of my breast. I was
convinced by every doctor that everything
was fine.
Even the ultrasound came back great, they
said.
" Come back in six months if anything
changes, " the caller from the hospital
cheerfully told me on the phone. But a still
small voice told me to get that biopsy.
So, I did.
I didn't suspect cancer; it honestly was
never on my radar even though my sweet
Granny had passed from cervical cancer
years before.
And now here I was, four days after that
biopsy where the oncologist who had been
practicing for 30+ years told me he had no
worries of cancer.
" I was wrong. It's cancer, " he had said on
the phone at 8:00 a.m., 10 minutes before I
put my 8-year-old son on the school bus.
In that indescribable moment, I felt as if I
left my body and I am slowly learning how
to come back home to her.
So, yes, I remember the sounds and the
smells of every moment the day I was
diagnosed.
I think many of us do when we go through
traumatic moments in our lives.
That's a huge reason why I don't call myself
a cancer " survivor. "
It feels to me like I am supposed to behave
like I am " done. "
I " survived, " right?
But, what about all those smells and sounds
that still trigger me?
What about the mental toll it's taken?
What about the scanxiety from the countless
tests, imaging, and procedures from
the numerous checkups and scares for the
rest of my life? Or what about the physical
aspects I will always live with because
of my diagnosis? Radiation burns and
the immobility from those burns, breast
amputation, infertility, brain fog, early
menopause, etc., etc.
So, I have been trying out the term, " cancer
veteran. "
We honor veterans.
We typically understand that though they
are back from what traumatized them, they
are usually not " OK. "
They're not " done. "
They will live in some way or another
with triggers and will need mental health
resources to cope with their " new normal. "
And so do we.
I can't describe how important my therapist
has been for me before, during, and
especially while processing this thing they
call, " survivorship. "
I clearly remember one day after my fifth
So, I have been
trying out the term,
" cancer veteran. "
We honor
veterans.
We typically
understand that
though they are
back from what
traumatized them,
they are usually
not " OK. "
ELEPHANTSANDTEA.COM
SEPTEMBER 2022
23
chemo treatment. I was given AC, a.k.a.
" the red devil, " and what a devil it was. It
was a combination of two different chemo
drugs, and I was wiped out.
Then came Taxol, another chemo agent,
and its incessant bone pain.
I was bloated.
My skin was dry and blistering.
I had a double eye infection that wouldn't
go away, and my once muscled and strong
body was soft and fragile.
I went from the strongest I had ever been
physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually
to a bald and broken vessel I barely
recognized.
I was wrecked, y'all.
I crashed and burned.
For months I kept it together,
somewhat voluntarily,
just part of surviving this disease with two
young children.
I had a great run in the first months of
chemo-I kept exercising, being there
for my kids and husband, teaching my
strength and cardio classes at my local
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Elephants and Tea - September 2022

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