Where was this in 2014?

Such a great article below.  Points out so many true things.  Just thought I would help anyone out in the future.  My favorite point is #1 and #3.  Cancer comes with so much guilt and humility that it’s hard sometimes.  That’s all.  

What your friends with cancer want you to know (but are afraid to say)

 

People with cancer are supposed to be heroic.

We fight a disease that terrifies everyone.

We are strong because we endure treatments that can feel worse than the actual malignancies.

We are brave because our lab tests come back with news we don’t want to hear.

 The reality of life with cancer is very different from the image we try to portray.

Our fight is simply a willingness to go through treatment because, frankly, the alternative sucks. Strength? We endure pain and sickness for the chance to feel normal down the road.  Brave? We build up an emotional tolerance and acceptance of things we can’t change. Faith kicks in to take care of the rest.

The truth is that if someone you love has cancer, they probably won’t be completely open about what they’re going through because they’re trying so hard to be strong.

For you.

However, if they could be truly honest and vulnerable, they would tell you:

1. Don’t wait on me to call you if I need anything.  Please call me every once in a while and set up a date and time to come over. I know you told me to call if I ever needed anything, but it’s weird asking others to spend time with me or help me with stuff I used to be able to do on my own. It makes me feel weak and needy, and I’m also afraid you’ll say “no.”

2. Let me experience real emotions. Even though cancer and its treatments can sometimes influence my outlook, I still have normal moods and feelings in response to life events. If I’m angry or upset, accept that something made me mad and don’t write it off as the disease. I need to experience and express real emotions and not have them minimized or brushed off.

3. Ask me “what’s up” rather than “how do you feel.” Let’s talk about life and what’s been happening rather than focusing on my illness.

4. Forgive me.  There will be times when the illness and its treatment make me “not myself.” I may be forgetful, abrupt or hurtful. None of this is deliberate. Please don’t take it personally, and please forgive me.

5. Just listen. I’m doing my very best to be brave and strong, but I have moments when I need to fall apart. Just listen and don’t offer solutions. A good cry releases a lot of stress and pressure for me.

6. Take pictures of us. I may fuss about a photo, but a snapshot of us can help get me through tough times.  A photo is a reminder that someone thinks I’m important and worth remembering. Don’t let me say “I don’t want you to remember me like this” when treatment leaves me bald or scarred.  This is me, who I am RIGHT NOW. Embrace the now with me.

7. I need a little time alone.  A few points ago I was talking about how much I need to spend time with you, and now I’m telling you to go away.  I love you, but sometimes I need a little solitude. It gives me the chance to take off the brave face I’ve been wearing too long, and the sil1ence can be soothing.

8. My family needs friends. Parenting is hard enough when your body is healthy; it becomes even more challenging when you’re managing a cancer diagnosis with the day-to-day needs of your family. My children, who aren’t mature enough to understand what I’m going through, still need to go to school, do homework, play sports, and hang out with friends. Car-pooling and play dates are sanity-savers for me. Take my kids. Please.

My spouse could also benefit from a little time with friends. Grab lunch or play a round of golf together. I take comfort in knowing you care about the people I love.

9. I want you to reduce your cancer risk. I don’t want you to go through this. While some cancers strike out of the blue, many can be prevented with just a few lifestyle changes – stop smoking, lose extra weight, protect your skin from sun damage, and watch what you eat. Please go see a doctor for regular check-ups and demand follow-up whenever pain, bleeding or unusual lumps show up. Many people can live long and fulfilling lives if this disease is discovered in its early stages. I want you to have a long and fulfilling life.

10. Take nothing for granted. Enjoy the life you have right now. Take time to jump in puddles, hug the kids, and feel the wind on your face. Marvel at this amazing world God created, and thank Him for bringing us together.

While we may not be thankful for my cancer, we need to be grateful for the physicians and treatments that give me the chance to fight this thing. And if there ever comes a time when the treatments no longer work, please know that I will always be grateful for having lived my life with you in it. I hope you feel the same about me.

Kim Helminski Keller is a Dallas-based mom, wife, teacher and journalist. She is currently receiving treatment for thyroid cancer. 

F-You 2015!

2016, It’s going to be a big year!

It’s the year; I hope to forever be done with chemo.  I mean I know the odds are not in my favor.  I am statistically more likely to have another cancer in my lifetime, I get it.  But let me bask in my ignorance for the future just this year.  I am not a fan of resolutions.  Maybe I guess stop stuffing my face with food, but that’s a work in progress.

This year I suspect has a lot of things coming to an end and beginnings.  Oh such a very cryptic message.  Only those that stick around will find out…

Stuck…

No I don’t look sick.  When I meet new people do I tell them I have cancer (although technically yes, I am in remission).  Do I share “my secret”?  At what point if ever should people know?  There’s no playbook or how to on what to do in these situations.  It seriously freaks people out.  Most can’t really wrap their head around it and look visibly uncomfortable.  So, I don’t tell people.  But I also feel by not telling people I am lying.  It’s like no matter what I feel like a liar with secrets.  It’s weird…

Another Year Goes By…

Another year passes.  I have turned 33.   I don’t really care that I am older.  That doesn’t mean anything to me.  We all age and get old.  Die at some point.  I guess it means I am just one year closer to being done.  Done with the stint with cancer.  Just a blip on the radar.  Something to get past I guess.  How sad really but I truly can’t wait to get done.  Just 11 months left.  Only three LP’s with chemo left.  THAT’s it.  I can’t wait.  Wait….it’s all I can do right now.

Truth

A lot of people always comment, “I don’t know how you do it”, ” you are amazing”, “you look so good, I can’t believe you beat cancer”, “you are so strong” on and on with positive uplifting words.  I know with all my heart people mean nothing but the best but the truth is…I am just doing what anyone else in my position would be doing.  When you aren’t given a choice, you  just do it.  It’s like auto-pilot.  I probably don’t talk about it as much as some people would expect and I definitely don’t tell strangers or people I just meet what I am going through.  No one has any idea really, if they didn’t already know.  Truth be told, I don’t care.

I don’t want to be the “sick” person.  I just want my new fucking normal back.   However horrible or life changing new life it may be.  I just want this last year to be over.  The article posted below is a lot of how I feel, just tired.  I wish I could verbally express the way I feel like some of the articles I read.

“I didn’t really feel happy after cancer ended”

Countdown?!

Yup, that song pops in my head every single time, final countdown.  It’s more annoying than anything.  I am not sure how they played that every single show.  Ugh.

Ahhh, 12 months of treatment left.  I know it seems such a long time to go, but heck it’s already been 2 years so this milestone is amazing.  I haven’t yet pinpointed my exact completion date.  I am still taking one month at a time.  I don’t want to jinx this whole thing.  But let me tell you that when this shit is over, there will be a celebration.   A massive celebration.

If Not then What?

Cancer Identity by Elise Frame

This is truly amazing article to me.  I could not have said it better.  I am still fighting cancer and going through chemo but yet I am in remission so I have a hard time finding an identity.  Do I have cancer?  Well, technically speaking no, I do not.  I am in remission.   Am I done with treatment?  No, I still have about 13 months left.  So where does this leave me?  I am not yet a survivor, but yet I am not with cancer.  I don’t know what I am really.  What defines me??

Frustration-ARRHH!

I don’t know what is worse, someone trying to give you a lumbar punch for 45 minutes, trying to get the spot where fluid comes out or what?!?  It’s painfully, painful.  I know it’s not the doctor’s fault that I have had so many that the scar tissue has built up so badly he can no longer find the spot.  As tears came down my face from the pain, I just hoped he found the spot so I didn’t have to do it again.  With no such luck.  We are going to have to give it another go next month.  And they said only 5 more total left in all for this protocol.  Ugh, It’s so mentally and physically draining every time.  In the back of my mind I can’t help but think that I am going to have a CF leak and end up in the hospital.  I try to block it out but I just can’t sometimes.  Ohh well on to another day and more chemo….