Moving Forward, Slowly but Surely

I started back at work a little over two weeks ago.  The day I started work was the day I stopped wearing caps, a welcome change.  My hair is long enough now that I'm warm, it looks semi-decent, and caps kind of hurt my head. Going back to work has been a huge, somewhat overwhelming transition for me but a wonderful one.  My fatigue has been a challenging obstacle but I'm finding ways to manage it. It's such a joy being back with my students and a part of a school community.  The transition has had its ups and downs but overall, I feel like I'm right where I'm supposed to be right now.

People keep asking me how I'm doing.  I'm not exactly sure how to respond. I'm coping well.  I'm slowly moving forward with a new outlook.  I'm being very conscious about my diet, exercising, and sleep.  I'm doing my best to avoid reading about follicular lymphoma studies.  However, trying to integrate this experience and diagnosis into my identity has been a huge challenge.  For the last 6 months, cancer has been my identity.  It's been what people see when they look at me.  It's dictated how I've felt physically and emotionally.  It's played a role in all of my interactions with others and entered into every one of my relationships.  It's changed how I relate to myself, think about my future, and plan my life.  BUT I'm also learning that it isn't ALL of me.  I am not just my cancer.  While it has dominated my life over these last six months, I'm hoping cancer will be less on my mind, affecting my day-to-day experiences, and part of my relationships.  Very slowly, I'm starting to actually feel this shift happening.  I have a nice, soft head of hair now, so people don't stare as much or ask tons of questions.  I'm experiencing very little side effects, just some fatigue and memory challenges.  For the most part, I am in charge of my days.  They are no longer being dictated by treatments, news, scans, or trips to the doctor.  I make it through some days now without thinking about my cancer or worrying about the future.  It's a strange feeling.  Part of me wants to put it in a box and never open it again.  Another part of me knows that I need to acknowledge and integrate it into my identity in order to move forward.  I'd like to make a distinction here.  I don't think I will ever move on from this.  Putting it behind me doesn't really feel like an option, at least right now.  My treatment and diagnosis will continue to affect my identity, my outlook on life, and my relationships; however, I DO plan to keep moving and looking forward.  

One question that is still challenging for me is "do you have cancer?"  Do I?  My understanding is that follicular lymphoma, whether active cancer cells or not, is in my body now and always will be.  So how do I respond then?  Am I cancer-free?  I'm in remission so I guess I'm cancer-free.  Sometimes the words and terms can overwhelm me though.  Also, as an information-lover, I'm slowly learning that reading and researching my cancer is not actually helpful.

A truth I continue to grapple with is accepting and believing that I did not cause my cancer.  This notion is challenging for me to embrace but is critical as I try to move forward

My Unwelcome Visitor and My Mantra

I'm done with treatment.  Being done has bought joys and challenges along with it.  I find myself getting caught up in worrying about the future, coming transitions, life expectancy statistics, my trauma, the past, and my fears.  Often my worrying and anxiety bring a visitor along with them.  An unwelcome visitor.  When this visitor appears at my door, I usually try to run away or fight her off.  I'm scared of her.  Scared of my history with her and scared of how she makes me feel.  However, with my therapist's help, I decided to invite my visitor in for tea.  I sat down with her and tried to listen to what she had to tell me.  She came with a purpose.  My visitor came to tell me that I needed to slow down.  Embrace the moments and let go of the "what ifs".  My life is now, so that's where I should be living.  This visitor's name is depression.  She's a shameful visitor but usually has important messages to tell me if I'm willing to listen. It's very common for depression to visit cancer patients, especially during their post-treatment period.  It's a time that is fraught with worries and reliving of the recent trauma.  This visitor has since departed and has left me feeling very hopeful as I take time to breathe, connect, and find joy.

Truthfully, I feel very ashamed that depression has been a part of my cancer journey, especially post-treatment.  It feels like I should just be so happy that I survived and am in remission.  However, I know that I can't control my depression but I can manage how I respond to it.  Luckily, Janelle and I have an amazing social worker at Dana-Farber who has helped us re-frame how to cope and explore my relationship with depression, shame, and cancer as a part of my identity.    

Recently, a mantra has really helped me focus on living in present.  During yoga class last month, we were asked to visualize our greatest hope. As I was visualizing my greatest hope, being healthy, I was told to imagine it was already true and say my intention in the present "today I am healthy".  In doing so, I realized that this is ALREADY true.  Today, I am healthy.  While I can't predict my health of tomorrow, I know that today I am healthy.  This mantra now sits on a post-it next to my bed.  Every day I'm reminded that I'm healthy today and that's all that matters.

More to come soon about returning to work.  I will try to keep writing because it definitely grounds me and reminds me of important truths.