Symptom Roulette

As I finish the first round of treatments and prepare for the next, I find myself looking in the mirror not sure who I see back at me. My hair is gone, eyebrows are thinning, eyelashes are disappearing and my skin is pale. Every day I feel a little different. I need a bit more make-up when I go out in public to hide my under eye circles and puffy eyelids.

Is this what cancer looks like? I don’t know. I mean, I know it’s different for everyone. Yet when I look around the treatment room at my beloved fellow cancer patients, I see these similarities. It’s like we are being stripped of everything we physically knew of ourselves.

There are things they tell you to expect when it comes to all of this and the different types of symptoms that show up. But I truly don’t know how I will wake up feeling. It becomes a game of symptom roulette. Every day is a new adventure of what I will see, feel and experience. There is no norm. 

I am given pills for all of it, and sometimes I need it, other times I don’t want it. There are times I just have to ride the wave of discomfort where all I can do is lie in the fetal position waiting for it to pass. This is where the questions of how did I get here and why is this happening appear. I still haven’t received an answer yet. 

And then there are days where I find joy in the little moments. Where my physical body moves easily and fluidly with no pain. The days where I can breathe easier with an understanding that this is just a moment in time. Soon enough this will all be a distant memory that I will look back on with a newfound wisdom. 

As my physical body starts to feel more of the wear and tear of treatment, I am skeptical of the wisdom cancer will bring. 

I have the privilege of working with an amazing group of women. A few of them are currently pregnant. I have found we experience many of the same symptoms, which has been an interesting correlation to discover. I love that we can empathize as well as commiserate with one another. Similar symptoms yet different outcomes. There is a comfort in sharing this together. Yet, I also ponder the deeper meaning.

These women are bringing new life into the world. They are giving their bodies over to something that is beyond themselves. It is probably one of the greatest acts of unconditional love. This act of love starts out as a part of them. A part of them that will be released for the world to receive. Then it takes on a life of its own. It is a part of the circle of life that women have been tasked with and masterfully doing for centuries. 

So I ponder what am I birthing? How does my cancer tie into the circle of life? Is this even a reasonable correlation? The only thing I can correlate at this point is I am starting to look like a newborn baby.

I find comfort in knowing numerous women have been down the birthing or cancer road before (sometimes both). They made it through the darkest of days. So perhaps my meaning for now is the act of unconditional love for the women before me. They have paved the way to trust there is light ahead…even in the darkest of moments. 

By loving them, I am loving myself. A circle of love.