Not My Character

Cancer is an Experience

When I was diagnosed with breast cancer, I was thrown into a hot seat. A tumor was growing inside of me, and yet I needed to separate myself from it.

From the very beginning, I recognized: I am not cancer.

Cancer would be something that I moved through — cancer would be an experience, and not an identity. Cancer does not define my humor. It does not carry my compassion. It does not extend the kindness and love I show others. That is because cancer is not my character. It may have taken shelter in my body but my spirit is kicking it out.

Most days I feel like a 5’10” crumb. Emotionally I am drained. Physically I am strained. Energetically I am zapped. Chemotherapy brings a full circus of side effects. It is relentless with every infusion and I do not “bounce back” easily. I ask you to hold that truth with me because honestly, I don't feel great, and I need you to assume that is the baseline. If you recall the Pepto Bismol jingle line, “nausea, heartburn, indigestion, upset stomach, and diarrhea” that is my ongoing battle.

What helps me most right now is not asking how I feel or how I am doing. This blog is my space to process and vent. So a heads-up: you may be lovingly redirected right back here if you ask how I am.

What does feel supportive is helping me stay focused on the end. Help me reclaim the story — that I am not a victim, that cancer is an experience, and it is not my character. Share encouragement that there is a giant, shiny disco ball at the end of all this, and it calls for my best grooves.

Remind me that I am a Tough Twinkie.



Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Guess Who’s Back?

Image
Hair is Back, Tell a Friend How will the new sprouts on my head grow in? Throughout chemo, my adorable  niece (loose compliment) loved pointing out my bald head. Once she gasped, “OH WOW! I wouldn’t recognize you in public with no hair.” Cute, right? Well, “Guess who’s back? Back again?” That’s right, the hair on Shea’s. . . no, not on my chinny, chin, chin, but on my scalp, finally ! So it is time for a vote.  Cleo (and the rest of you), state your opinions. . . or your bets, on how the hair will regrow. The first person to guess correctly wins a chia pet! Options Include: 1. Slime-Shady Blonde & Straight. 2. Slime-Shady Brown, Straight Remix. 3. Ron the Weasel Red & Straight. 4. Hairtrix Dark & Straight. 5. Timberlake-Noodles Blonde & Curly. 6. Timberlake-Noodles Brown & Curly. 7. Shaun-That-Ain’t-White, Red Curls / Waves. 8. Timothee-Let-Us-See Dark Curls. 9. Trebek-Ya-Didn’t-Expect White & Straight. 10. Muaha-Mu-GOT-YOU White Curls.
Read more

Twinkie Tries Cocktail 1

Chemotherapy Infusion #1 The first infusion was May 2nd, 2025. For 1 week the body aches, the headaches, and the muscle tension kept me hunkered down and sunk into the couch. I could barely stand up and instead of walking I hobbled around the apartment and between my place and my parents’ (depending on the next infusion, I might need a cane). For a handful of days I could hardly eat. The first obstacle was constipation. When that passed I experienced diarrhea immediately after I ate, so instead I drank broth, teas, and water. Then there were a couple of days that my mouth was inflamed and even drinking water hurt my teeth. So 1-week after the first chemotherapy infusion and FINALLY I could consume food and drink without side effects. It seemed like the wave of symptoms ended!  Oh how silly of me to be hopeful. My sinuses dried up and I experienced insane nose bleeds out of nowhere. I had to shoot up from the couch or the bed and race to the bathroom to toss my face into the sink. I...
Read more

Fade Away?

Nah, Treatment Has More to Say Important notice: there is mention of depression, loss, and grief. Read it when you feel ready. Treatment — that was done and over, right? Well, no. There’s a new performance in the circus line-up. The medical term is perimenopause . This magician has a hat full of tricks — forgetfulness, stiff joints, muscle aches, hot flashes, night sweats, mood swings… and apparently, ‘not giving a frick’ can trickle out. That one, I’m actually okay with — finally, a useful skill to hoard in my adult toolbox. Before I could ride along with zero fricks, I landed in a stint of depression. Hold up — a bonus level of despair in the hat? Radiating positive numbers, my lab results confirmed that my body was bouncing back and normalizing. Overall, the outcomes from chemotherapy and surgery were positive, even “delightfully unexpected,” as the care team shared. Full of hope, I wanted to move on with life. I threw a celebration to close the past and honor a healthy start. But ...
Read more