It’s been two years since I was taking chemo. It’s only been one year since my last surgery. My memories have started to fade and my sense of self-worth is increasing. My choices are more select and with purpose, I want to have meaningful relationships and ones that don’t take so much damn effort. I want to smile more and appreciate the chaos that is raising two littles and one grown adult that currently hates my guts.
I need someone to tell me if I should grow out my hair again or keep cutting it. The former of which I’m terrified to do with the worry that the lasting change in my DNA from chemotherapy will be present in long locks of previously thick hair. The latter makes me really happy, but will I always wonder what it could look like if it had one more chance to grow out?
I wonder if I’m completely wasting my money when I put it in savings or retirement. It’d be real shame to have squirreled it all away and never have had a chance to do the things I wanted. Why shouldn’t I go on that vacation or buy that newer car (in this case it’s a beautiful SUV that I’ve been drooling over 🤤🤤🤤🤤).
In a week or so I am heading to the ear, nose and throat doctor to measure my hearing loss and need for potential hearing aids. Much like a lot of chemo patients have neuropathy on their hands, feet or other areas of the body, I have had a lot of nerve damage in my ears. I still have right arm nerve damage and I don’t have much sensation on my right side at all. It sucks, but what’s the alternative?
I still wake up everyday assessing my body. Am I sick today. Are there any new symptoms, am I dying again? When I see stories of children who’s mom or dad have died from cancer, I still wonder if my own will ever heal from those imminent death feelings about their mom. Currently, Beckham can’t talk about me catching a cold, coughing or sneezing without absolutely freaking out. He instantly panics and asks if I have cancer again. Or if I’m going to die. It’s devastating.
My social anxiety is still very present and accounted for. After talking with my doctor, I’m learning that all of the milestones I hit; anniversaries of chemo and surgeries showing up in my social media “memories” is sending my heart into the pit of my belly and my thoughts right back to cancer.
It’s all normal. My new normal. It’s getting easier. Kind of. Maybe.
Bethactually 