Substance

Mia Rose
3 hours ago
5 min read

"I know there are days when the weight of this life feels impossible to carry. When another appointment feels heavier than the last. When another symptom makes you wonder if your body will ever feel like home again. I know there are nights you've cried so hard you could barely catch your breath. When the thought quietly slips in- "I don't know if I can keep doing this". Not because you're giving up, because you're tired. Tired in a way sleep has never been able to fix. The kind of exhaustion that settles into your bones. Into your heart. Into the parts of you that no scan will ever see. I know you've wondered if you're becoming too much. Too many appointments, too many conversations about your health, too many cancelled plans, too much for the people you love. But you were never too much. You are simply carrying too much. The world sees strength because you keep showing up. What it doesn't see is the version of you sitting on the bathroom floor wiping away the tears, taking one breath at a time and whispering to yourself "just keep going". And you did...that wasn't weakness, or failure, it was survival asking everything of you and somehow, you answered. "-@dani_troops

It's been a minute since my last post because if I'm being honest, life has been a rollercoaster of emotions and I haven't really figured out where to land. Treatment is going well in the sense that it is still working! I just had another scan a few weeks ago and it was ALL CLEAR! Music to my ears. This makes nine straight months of "no cancer" showing up in my body. I guess you would think that good news just washes away all of the other emotions that surround this experience, but it just doesn't. I still go in for labs, an oncology visit and chemotherapy every 3 weeks. Also thrown in the mix every few months is a PET scan, an echocardiogram (chemo is hard on my heart) and a secondary infusion that helps not only keep the cancer at bay but also strengthen my bones which have taken a pretty significant hit over the last many years. It's so weird feeling grateful, angry, so tired, scared and hopeful all at once...every single day. It can feel pretty isolating that no one really gets this. People see me show up to work, attend the kids' events, take care of the people I love and not look sick. My reality is, however, that fighting cancer takes it's toll on me. I know I'm strong as hell, but I'm also all of the emotions I just shared, as well. I've heard that profound experiences change us. There is a before version of ourselves and an after. I am a series of profound, albeit tragic and traumatic experiences. I've been told I have cancer four times. Four. I have had major surgical complications three times.I've lost all of my hair. Twice. I will be completing my 17th round of chemotherapy this week which has now surpassed the most I've ever been given. In total over the course of eight years I'm standing at a whopping 34 rounds so far. It's no wonder that when I break it all down, it justifies the single most consistent emotion I've been feeling this whole last year...lost. My sense of self is fuzzy. I don't recognize the reflection of the woman who stares back at me in the mirror. I'm not entirely certain of the person I'm wanting to become. I feel lost amongst the shuffle of fighting to stay alive and being true to the me that was prior to all of these experiences and the me that is yet to be. Somewhere deep inside I realize that this transition and introspection is indeed a gift, but it feels like yet another thing I'm forced to navigate. I know, I know, GET to navigate. That, I guess, is the ultimate gift.

This summer was full of moments that took my breath away. My daughter graduated high school, finished high school sports with a literal home run in softball and the boys are also thriving. Mom is still with us and a family vacay brought me to the bustling thrill that is NYC and the beauty of a sunrise on the Jersey Shore with people I care about. Wanderlust for me is a thing, and the moments where I get to see other places and not feel so stuck in this cancer world seriously makes me feel alive. I'm also so grateful for a trip with some dear friends that brought the most unexpected blessing. As cancer survivors, as I stated before, it can feel so lonely. Most people I know just assume I've got this because it's just what I do, handle it. There is a piece of me, though, that feels pretty broken and maybe a little desperate for someone to look behind the curtain. These friends did just that. There were tears, hugs, laughter, great music and support. The kind of support I had been missing without really knowing it. I'm grateful to you soulful friends. Some people are truly a gift and feeling so seen and loved was exactly what I needed. In just one week it marks the one year anniversary of me finding out I had nine tumors on my spine/hip. It was a whirlwind of getting my port put back in and starting a new chemo regimen. I'm proud of myself for coming this far and equally as proud that I haven't and won't give up, even though it has crossed my mind a time or two. My friends reminding me that I'm not alone and watching my family reach their various milestones keeps me going, as hard as this all is. The substance that I am made of is of grit, grace, strength, soulful reflection and constant, heartfelt transformation. I can already envision myself healthy, happy, HERE, with a head full of hair (😉) and a heart grounded by yet another chance at living. The mountain that I'm moving here is pretty tough to navigate, but only I can move the barriers that keep me from believing in what I'm already manifesting for my future.