girl with the good kind of cancer

When I was about halfway through my radiation, I came across a quote that said, “Some days, you will be amazed at your own strength.” That quote really resonated with me at the time. I got up every day, forced liquids down my throat despite the unbearable pain, drove myself to radiation though I wasn’t sure I should be driving, walked myself up the three flights of stairs to my apartment even when I had to stop every few steps to sit down, kept choking down the disgusting strawberry-flavored protein drink and forced myself to keep drinking even when I threw it up, successfully avoided getting a feeding tube put in (which I had been forewarned the last two patients in my situation had done), and completed my coursework on time (and even excelled) when I could barely keep my head up and my eyes open. So when I saw that quote, I thought, “wow – I really am strong. I can do this. I never thought I’d be strong enough to handle this, but here I am – almost done. Keep going, Janna. One step at a time. The only way out is through.”

But today, I’m dealing with that quote’s evil stepsister. The voice in my head that says, “Some days, you should be astonished at just how sick you feel.” On these days, the act of waking up hurts. The pain begins as soon as my eyes open, at times so bad that I can’t even get a deep breath. My throat, constantly irritated, is rough with phlegm that all the coughing in the world can’t dislodge. The scar tissue from surgery and radiation, which covers the entire expanse of my neck, moves stiffly and achingly as I swallow. I feel electric zaps shoot down my spine and through my arms as I bend down to put my shoes on. The fatigue might be the worst part, though. The deep, paralyzing aching across my whole body that whispers, “please don’t make us get up today, Janna. Haven’t we been through enough? We are so tired. Can’t we have just one more day to rest?”

On days like this, I don’t know what to do. I get irrationally frustrated with anyone who tells me, “you’ve had worse pain, you can handle this” or “I know how it feels to be tired.” I want to scream and say, “YOU DON’T KNOW HOW IT FEELS.” Even though that’s not true – people do know how it feels and many people have dealt with worse. But that doesn’t make my suffering feel any less real to me. Is the pain and fatigue anything compared to how I was feeling just a few months ago? No, it does not compare to that level. But in the past month, I’d gotten to a “new normal” of still feeling fatigue and pain but on a tolerable level. I’d let my mind finally breathe a sigh of relief because maybe, just maybe, it was starting to improve. Never would I be the same person I was pre-cancer, but at least I felt as if I could function. But this new tiredness, this new aching and pain…it’s really hard, and I don’t know how to deal.

I’ve got a scan coming up – if my oncologist’s office ever calls me back – and an endocrinology appointment coming up too, if they ever decide to call me back as well. At times it seems I’m the only one concerned with my health, which is a far cry from six months ago when I was monitored daily.

For now, though, I’m going to try to get back to that place – the one where I knew I had to keep going because there were things I wanted to accomplish, people I wanted to see, and battles to keep fighting. I have to remember that at times my own strength will amaze me, and just take it one step at a time.

Tags: cancer, chronic, survivorship, thyca, Thyroid cancer