In October, We Wear Pink!
When I first told friends I was going to start exploring options to go public with my writing the reactions I received went one of two ways. I was met with surprise that I’d changed my stance on my writing being private or I got some variation of, “You have such a great story to tell!” Now I believe the former to be true, but every time I heard it I couldn’t help thinking to myself, “And what story would that be?”
I never said that out loud because I’m trying to be less of a jerk. Also, nine times out of ten I already knew good and well what story they were referring to. So naturally, I made sure not to mention that topic anywhere on my website or in any of my initial posts. I knew the story people envisioned me telling so I intentionally did not tell it. Let me emphasize: TRYING to be less of a jerk.
What everyone expected me to focus on, the topic that always draws the sympathy likes on social media, is my Cancer Survivorship. So here ya go.
The first week of October just ended so I’m sure you’ve noticed the influx of pink ribbons. Yall it’s Breast Cancer Awareness Month! I could really benefit from playing on your emotions, writing sob stories about my traumatizing battle and near death experiences; it would definitely increase my readers. I could also paint myself as this super strong heroine that bravely fought and came out victorious in a hard won battle against an unyielding beast. That would for sure draw patients and survivors. I considered it; many people do and ya know, it works for them. Both those options would be disingenuous coming from me though. So instead, I’m going to do what I do best and share three random things about my personal cancer experience that you probably don’t know because I’m so extremely good at hiding things :-)
Annnd because I can never just get to the point, I’m breaking these bad babies into separate posts! You’re welcome! First up… How my mental insufficiencies eventually helped get me diagnosed:
I am really gifted in the art of compartmentalizing. When I feel as though nothing is going good I just create new compartments! Super healthy, I know. In this case my unwillingness to process the stress and anxiety of a failing relationship may have saved my life; at least that’s how I’m choosing to look at it. By May of 2018, I was well aware that my relationship needed to come to an end, but the idea of actually ending it scared the shit out of me. At the end of the school year my children went south for the summer to visit family so I made myself busy. Extremely busy. I convinced myself that I was just doing the responsible thing. Being a single mom of two very active (expensive) boys, it only made sense that I took advantage of the time without them to work and save as much as I could. Sounds logical, right? I requested the overnight job that I usually worked once a week bump me up to three and I accepted a summer school position during the day. I was also enrolled in a full course load of online college classes in which I was adamant about getting straight A’s. The cherry to top this lovely stress sundae: I decided right then was the best time to become obsessive about losing weight.
Because of how all my different schedules overlapped, once a week I’d actually have to leave home for 32 consecutive hours. On Wednesdays I would: Leave home at 7 am to make it to work, go to Wadman’s to nap or do school assignments because my apartment was too far, counseling at 5 pm, bible study by 7 pm, work from 9 pm till 7 am, then be back to work summer school by 7:45 am Thursday mornings. Fridays I had a standing reservation at my favorite table in the library. I’d sit there from open to close every Friday & Saturday to complete the brunt of my school work for the coming week because Crazy told me I had to stay ahead or I’d be behind so I couldn’t risk being too comfortable at home. Somehow I managed to squeeze in workouts 5 days a week, bike rides 3 days a week, and drive out to Rock Cut State Park to hike twice a week. I’m a naturally forgetful person so I thrive on lists and organizers. That summer my planner kept me sane (so I thought.) The point is: With all this going on I didn’t have time to care about the state of my practically nonexistent relationship.
By the end of summer I had boosted my GPA, saved a nice chunk, and dropped 32 pounds! Ayyyee!
I’ve had huge, saggy boobs since middle school; it feels like I’ve worn at least a DD my whole life. Then during the summer of 2018, I became one of those people whose tits get smaller with weight loss!! I vividly remember standing in front of the mirror one day and saying out loud, “Really boobs!? I didn’t think it was possible to get smaller and saggier!” I had always despised sports bras because they gave me “mush boob” and had absolutely no support. By July that year I basically lived in them. Rationalized it because I was working out more and buying sports bras was cheaper than buying actual bras for my new small boobs. With all the weight loss, boob shrinkage and changes are expected! Sounds logical, right? Yeah sure. Subconsciously, Crazy was up to it’s same ole tricks: creating compartments and not dealing with things. I never once made the conscious decision to hide my cancer or pretend not to notice it. It just happened; for months.
Friday, November 2nd while playing football with my class, my favorite PE teacher pointed out that my bony wrists looked like ganglion cysts. I responded with a super dramatic, “Ohhh great, cancer’s finally come to take me out!”
We laughed then she corrected me. “It is not cancer you nut, but you may need surgery. Get it checked.”
I hadn’t been to a real doctor in years so that following Sunday I texted my therapist to ask if they still had someone at their clinic that could check out my wrist. She told me they did and that I could make an appointment online. I have no clue why, it was so very random but I followed up with, “You think they’d be able to check out my boobs too?” I immediately got in the shower and sobbed. I stood there and for the first time I forced myself to look down at the enormous tumor that had been obvious since the weight loss. It was so big you didn’t even need to feel around to find it. Once my tears stopped I got out of the shower, dried off, and didn’t mention it to anyone.
The next day, November 5th, I went to the clinic after work. On the drive home my boyfriend (yeah that was still a thing) called to ask what the doctor had said about my wrist. He’d been feeling a little guilty because he thought he caused the cyst when he hurt my wrist a month prior during a really intense WWE game. I told him that our relationship was over and that we could finally be done. He said, “Ok Bee, whatever you want.”
I then informed him that the doctor did confirm I’d probably need surgery on my wrist but that she was more concerned with the tumor in my tits. Naturally he was a bit confused so I clarified, “Yeah I’m pretty sure I’ve got breast cancer and with the size of it, it’s probably late stages. But don’t worry, we’ve officially broken up so you don’t get to be the guy with the cancerous girlfriend!” Again, I’m working on being less jerky. Anywho, that’s how I finally got out of that relationship and started cancer treatments.
Creatively yours,
Miss Bee Cancer free. Single.
