Wednesday, July 4, 2012

Some 'Choice' Words

There have been so many parts of cancer that I wasn’t prepared for, that no matter what someone could have said to me, no one would have prepared me for what cancer does to you, both physically and emotionally. Lately, I feel like it’s more of a matter of when it is coming back rather than if it’s coming back. The other day, I heard someone said that at the 3-year-post-cancer-mark, the fear of recurrence lessens, so I guess I have a while to wait and even then lessening isn’t disappearing.

I have been struggling lately with my physical appearance. I have been trying to eat properly and am really trying to walk, a lot. I feel good physically but mentally, I feel bad about the way I look. I have a lot of guilt, I feel like I have done some of it to myself (mostly weight but even my breast, why do I feel responsible for what has happened to me?).

What is very frustrating, more frustrating than I thought it would be, is my hair. I used to have really long blond hair and when I wanted it curly, I wore it curly and when I wanted it straight, I wore it straight. I could wear it up or down or half and half, in a pony tail or messy bun or in a braid (I loved braids!).

When I found out that I needed chemo, my hair wasn’t a big concern of mine. When I cut it, I felt good about donating it and when I buzzed it off after my first treatment; I had a surprising feeling of pride. When it started falling out and I started to go bald, I wore my bald head like a badge of honour; never ashamed, never embarrassed; it was all part of the journey. Then, it started growing back, and kind of fast, and I loved it. Everyone was used to me not having hair, so I was getting so many compliments on my new pixie ‘cut’. I felt good.

As it grew out, it got curlier and curlier and now it’s ringlets. I don’t mind the curls, and even though it’s curly because of chemo and because of cancer, I don’t mind the curls. For me, it’s the length. I haven’t had hair this short since I was in grade 3 and as my Papa told me in 1992 in such a Papa-esque way, ‘I liked it better long.’ So did I Papa, so did I. Now, I can wear my hair one way; short, curly, and maybe with a head band. I don’t have any choices!

Aha! And therein lies the issues; the lack of choices. Isn’t that the issue as hand?

Cancer has robbed so many of us of so many choices. I don’t have a choice in my hair length along with having one breast, breast feeding, taking steroids, being so f*cking tired, feeling so much less of a woman, being on estrogen blockers at 27 years old, getting pregnant, and so on. Cancer has decided many of these things for me and while something like getting pregnant is still up in the air, I know that cancer has made its decision already, regardless of if I’m aware of it yet.

So many young women, who have had cancer and gone through treatment, have talked about choices. I hear all the time ‘I wasn’t sure if I wanted children before I had cancer, but now that I may not be able to, I’m upset that the choice has been taken away from me.’ I feel that way about so much anymore.

I know that I need to mourn the life that I used to know and the body that used to be mine; I know that I have to do that, I just don’t know how to do it? I don’t want to get used to this hair, or this breast, or this steroid induced weight, or these doctors, or the needles, or the prescriptions or the surgeries, or the word cancer having a whole new meaning compared to two years ago. I’m tired of thinking of my funeral or wondering if cancer is going to ‘get me’. I think of all of these things when I look at my hair.

If I were to describe someone to you, who has short hair, a small chest, a big belly and was on a lot of prescriptions, you would most likely think I was describing your grandpa or a great uncle, but instead, I am describing myself. I think what’s crazy is that I can feel this way about myself on the inside and still laugh and still act like everything’s ok. How is it that we can function when we feel so poorly about ourselves?

I write this blog to get it out there, not because I need sympathy or because I need the external validation (like I have needed my entire life). I think a lot of ‘cancer’ isn’t written about and because treatment is over, there’s sometimes an assumption that life should ‘go back to normal’. I just wanted to write about the way I see things.

I know that this is about more than hair. It’s about having to go through with something because a disease has left you with no options. It’s about being robbed of my womanhood. It’s about being given one option when others seem to have a variety of choices. It’s about not having the control over your own life that we are all supposed to be given. It’s about being tired of relying on inner beauty when all you want in some outer beauty.

14 comments:

  1. We all need a place to vent Katie!! I know where you're coming from, it didn't bother me being bald but now my hair is really getting on my wick! I can just about tie up the top half of my hair but its getting more afro-like by the day and is driving me NUTS! I just want my long frizzy hair back, I kinda miss it!

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    1. I know what you mean, and I don't feel like we're being vain, we just have had our choice in hair style taken away from us and we want it back.

      Thanks for the msg, hope all is well,

      Katie

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  2. Brave article Baby.

    Leah xo

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  3. Katie,
    I want to jump into the computer and give you a giant hug! As usual, you managed to put into words what many are feeling. You have a tremendous gift in your ability to verbalize all of the issues and each one of them is significant.

    Keep writing. Keep talking. Just keep doing what you are doing. The hair won't always be short and curly, but while it is, it's a constant reminder of everything else.

    Big hugs to you.
    xoxox
    AnneMarie

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    1. Thanks AnneMarie, seriously, your words help more than you know. And for the record, I felt your virtual hug.

      Love ya,

      Katie

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  4. Katie,

    I love this post. This is how I feel too and I need to write a little "rant" soon. Writing helps doesn't it? I used to consider my hair and my eyes my two "best" features. Well, no more. I know these outward things don't really matter, yet they do don't they? Thanks for writing this.

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    1. You know what, I would have never started to write if I hadn't been asked to write a blog for facingcancer.ca. I cannot believe how cathartic it is.

      It's funny that you say that outward things do matter, because I agree with you, but we all know that they do.

      Thanks for reading this!

      Katie

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  5. Even your words are beautiful, Katie. I'm at that 3 year mark and while it does get a little better, it's a process and even now it's sometimes two steps forward, one step back. But your point about not having control is on the money. You're so right that the physical changes - hair, weight, scars, meds, etc. may be 'temporary' but the fact that none of these were choices and that they create a type of domino effect is hard to reconcile. It's normal to be frustrated, angry, and vent. It's similar to the stages of grief. At some point, that same energy will empower you. I really enjoy your blog and your honesty. I promise, it does get better. XO

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    1. What a beautiful message. I think I outwardly nodded while reading your entire message. It's funny that you said 'it does get better' because I told someone whose wife is going through chemo that 'it does get better' earlier this morning and although I can say that when talking about comparing chemo to where I am now, I still find it comforting to hear it from someone who is 'ahead' of me in this whole cancer journey. And I couldn't agree more about the grief. We really need to mourn the life we used to know, don't we?

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  6. Would you please stop reading my mind and typing what I am feeling? (((hugs)))

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    1. Thanks for validating me, yet again!

      Katie

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  7. It is about choices, isn't it.

    My cancer treatment left me with super sensitive skin in one armpit. Now I have to wear things with loose sleeves, and only in silk, fleece, or sueded cotton. I couldn't wear a bra or tank top if I wanted to. I buy the majority of my clothes in the men's department or at second hand stores.

    My husband was trying to make me feel better one day and said, " you used to buy clothes in the men's department before, why is this such a struggle?"

    Because I used to have a choice.

    Stupid cancer.

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  8. Diane! Do you ever get it!! I was just on the phone with my boyfriend and said 'can I read you a comment from my blog?'. I read him your comment because you get it!! And it makes me feel so much less crazy when someone else gets it.

    Thank you.

    I'm sorry that you've been faced with 'stupid cancer' as well. It really has robbed us of so much.

    I am always here for a vent session - any time.

    Katie

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