Wednesday, September 14, 2011

Hills and All

I’ve been trying to write this blog entry for almost 2 years now. At first I just needed a break from blogging, as I was trying to pick up the pieces of what my life had become during treatment. Honestly, I fell into a deep depression. The first six months after treatment were some of the darkest moments of my life. During treatment, time seemed to almost stop and it felt as though I was in a cocoon protecting me from everyday life. As soon as treatment ended, the ticking of the clock was deafening, life was beating down my door. I, however, was broken into a million pieces and had no idea how to pick myself back up. I felt alone and abandoned by the incredible support I had during treatment. All of a sudden my weekly doctor’s appointments turned into 3 month check-ups. My oncologist, nurses, medical assistants, and even receptionists had become a huge support system. I will never forget walking away from my last chemo treatment to a standing ovation from every single person that worked in the clinic.

My friends and family were elated that I had made it through cancer alive, and rightfully so. I know everyone was searching for some sort of normalcy after that hellish year, but I had not even started processing what had happened. The denial and shock that allowed me to put one foot in front of the other was no longer there. I felt as though my life had been reduced to the fact that I should just be happy to be alive. Somehow, I felt as though that should be enough for me, but it wasn’t. I thought I might have some great optimistic outlook on life, where the small stuff wouldn’t bother me anymore, but I didn’t. I walked around like a lost puppy dog, trying to figure out how to make it through the day. Today, I don’t feel quite as lost, but the pain still exists and the tears still flow on a regular basis…my healing continues.

If there is any area in cancer care that is lacking it is in survivorship. I have struggled through the last 2 years, trying to not only make sense of the emotional impact cancer has had on my life, but also the physical impact. My bones and body still ache on a daily basis. It feels as though I’m about to get the flu. Sometimes this is manageable. Other times it brings me to tears because I just want to feel some sort of peace and quiet within my body. Chronic pain is a world I have become very humbled by.

The Chemotherapy has also led my body into a peri-menopausal state. My cycles have become longer and longer and the bleeding time is getting shorter and shorter, currently, less than 24 hours. I’ve been experiencing all the ‘fantastic’ menopausal symptoms that accompany this transition in a woman’s life, including bone density loss. I have officially been diagnosed with osteopenia, which helps explain why my teeth have been crumbling and falling out. My dental bills have been enormous! My regular dentist will not perform any of the procedures because the chemo and radiation have changed my bone structure in a way that he does not feel qualified to deal with, so off to more specialists.

Honestly, the menopause ‘stuff’ has been the hardest to deal with. At 32 years old, I am not ready to walk that path. I desperately want another baby at some point and would love to accomplish that without it being a huge medical ordeal. Along with the intense grief I feel surrounding this, I also feel anger…. a lot of it! I can say truthfully that this is the first time I’ve felt anger around my cancer. There’s actually something that feels potent and healthy about it. This anger seems to mean business and I believe it will be the energy that carries me though this storm to a more empowering place.

One way I’m taking my body back from cancer is training for the Nike Women’s Half Marathon in San Francisco with the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society’s Team in Training. I’m going to do something I never thought I could do and something my oncologist told me I would never do after chemo. Remember the drug in my chemo cocktail that affected my lungs so severely that I had to end chemo two treatments early? Well, in my patient education session before treatment, I was told that I would never be able to run a marathon after receiving this drug. At the time, I didn’t think much of it. Running a marathon was never an aspiration of mine. After I prove to myself that I can do this half, I’m moving onto a full marathon….I’d like to show up at my 3 year check-up and report that Bleomycin couldn’t keep me down.

Marathon training isn’t something that’s new to me. My Dad was a marathon runner. I remember marveling at the distances he ran when I was child. The summer before he died, my dad and I would run a mile together after dark. I have missed my dad so much through all of this. Running has given me a way to feel very connected to him again. I can feel him with me. When it came to deciding which race I was going to run, it was a no brainer. I chose San Francisco because my dad LOVED running in San Francisco and I wanted to experience it with him….hills and all!

Besides infusing my heart with the closeness of my dad, running has been an amazing way to find some peace in my mind. Even though my mind races with all of my usual brain clutter for the first few miles, something magical happens after that…peace. It’s almost an out-of-body type experience. I try to bask in it as long as it is possible. I find that when the chatter comes back, it is usually a reflection on what is amazing in my life. It changes my whole outlook on the day. I go on with my day in gratitude for my wonderful husband, son, and the life we’ve created together. I think about how much I love my mom and sister. I was born into an amazing family, including my grandparents, aunt, uncles, and cousins. I spend time in reverence for the friends I’ve been blessed with. In fact, my friend Charissa decided to embark on this Team in Training journey too, in honor of me. I reflect on what a privilege it is to do the work that I love to do and that I’m given an opportunity to serve others in such a powerful time in their lives. As a lactation consultant, I get to hold brand new life every shift I work. It is a powerful reminder that I too was given a chance to be born again.

I have Team in Training to thank for facilitating my love of running. They have provided a safe and encouraging space to accomplish this. I am humbled to be one this season’s Honorees. I have had an opportunity to share my story with others, which in and of itself is incredibly healing. The kindness and support that exists on my team is amazing. One of the biggest blessings has been meeting others with blood cancers. In fact, one of the women on my team went through Hodgkin’s treatment 10 years ago as a young mother, just like me. We immediately connected on so many levels. She understands what I went through in a way that not many others do. It helps me to not feel so alone, which makes this whole experience worth it.

And now, I humbly ask you to support me once again in my healing journey. Your donation to the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society will not only benefit me, but all of those that have yet to receive their diagnosis. My hope is that with research, the road to healing from blood cancers will be a little more bearable and the long term side effects a little gentler. Thank you for listening and for your continued support.

With Love and Gratitude,

Sarah

14 comments:

Molly said...

I love you and I am so proud of you! GO TEAM!

Charissa said...

You are an amazing woman Sarah and proud to be running right along side of you. Thanks for letting us into your lives and here's to many more races to come, right? Oh and of course, a shout out to Dan, who is pretty amazing as well!

Unknown said...

What a remarkable journey you have been through (and are still travelling, in many ways). Thank you for sharing so honestly and openly for all to read, especially those of us who may not have heard most of your story. You go, girl!

Beth Moorehead said...

What a brave and illuminating read! Thanks for giving us a better understanding of how friends and family surviving cancer might be feeling. You bet I'll help finance your Team in Training efforts

kate w said...

What a gift you have shared with us. This is one of the few times in life where you smile and cry at the same time. Love you. Can't wait to cheer you, grandpa Frank and Dan on in SF. xox

Sue said...

Sarah, Thank you for the sharing and the honesty with which you told your story.I have no doubt that you will change the experience for other survivours. I had the priviledge to hold and know you as a baby and watch you grow into an incredible woman. I am so glad you have the connection to your dad as you run. He is so proud of you I know it and I believe he was with you through it all.I believe you will go into that 3 yr check up having run all you want, proving them all wrong.
Take care in San Francisco hills and all.
Sue

Samantha Rick said...

Thank you so much for this update on your recovery and healing. This might sound selfish, but it was just what I needed today. After these past couple years battling CF in the worst of ways and just having my double lung transplant a month ago today, I have been feeling a bit lost in my healing as well. It's the emotional part that is hard to get around, I'm used to the physical pain and torment. I watched as my mom passed away from pancreatic cancer 6 months ago and healing has been hard without her as you with your father. Sarah, you are an inspiration to me and there's nothing I wouldn't do to help you and support you in your healing journey! Mason and I think about you daily and wish we could spend more time together. Much love to you and your family. Thank you girl!

Anonymous said...

Thank you for being so candid and vulnerable. Such a beautiful piece this is, and a remarkable journey you are on. I am so excited to get to know you more in such a beautiful setting as our children's shared education at Orchard. Much love! xo Jessica

Sarah Woodside said...

Thank you for sharing, Sarah. Thank you also for your inspiration and for supporting this cause both for yourself and all the other survivors!
Much love to you and your family.
Go Team and Go Sarah!
xo, Woody

Chantrelle said...

We love you so much Sarah!

My sister went through a similar depression after her MRSA coma/hear surgery, etc. People think you should be happy as a clam and thankful to have made it through...I was guilty of that as well...but it's overwhelming. Really, it's very similar to post-partum depression in a way. Hopefully there will be more awareness of the need for support post-treatment.

I think about you every day and am so proud of you for doing this run...in awe to tell you the truth!

Love you lots!

K. Noelke said...

Sarah you are so courageous and strong! I love you lots and always support you. Let me know the details of when and where so I can come cheer you on.

Rebeccals said...

Thank you so much for writing this; I am very grateful for the greater understanding it has given me.

Lisa Sterbenz said...

Wow Sarah...thank you for sharing. You are right..you rarely hear about the recovery side of things, but I am so grateful that you are recovered and able to share your story. I am impressed with your drive to run the half and then on to the 26.2. You can do it!!!! Lisa

Karsta jensen said...

You are amazing Sarah! Thanks for sharing your story with us, wow! You are such an inspiration mama. I love you and your beautiful family. I plan to support you and the cause for sure. Thanks for the afternoon tears....Love to you and happy training.
Karsta