For 30 days, I stared at the bell you get to ring once you have completed radiation treatment.
For 30 days, I marked my treatment progression in calendar count down of how many days left until I could ring that bell.
For 30 days, I wanted nothing more than to ring that bell, give cancer a big F@%$ YOU and be done with treatment.
Then I rang the bell. Tears were shed and hugs were given. I turned in my parking pass and badge and walked away from it all. Treatment was complete.
But….the joy and happiness I thought I would feel while ringing that bell were absent. Instead, it was a BIG LET DOWN and down right anticlimactic.
__________________________________________________________________
What you just read above was what I wrote 2 weeks after I finished radiation treatment. I couldn’t complete this blog until today, which is on the eve of my 4 month anniversary of finishing treatment.
In this passage of time, I have reflected on that bell-ringing moment plenty of times. And I think why it was sooooooo anticlimactic was because I was at LOWEST; physically and emotionally at my lowest, utterly exhausted with nothing much left to give. Hence an absence of writing about my cancer treatment until today.
The bell ringing wasn’t so much a celebration as it signaled the start of the hardest and longest (and probably best) chapters of this journey.
One I like to call: The Climbing Out of Hell Chapter.
Here’s a funny little paradox about cancer treatment: The treatment of the cancer, while making you better, often makes you feel worse, a lot worse.
The treatments put so much physical strain on my body; with back-to-back surgeries and one of the most grueling radiation courses out there, it felt like I was strapped into a terrifying rollercoaster ride and all I could do was hang on until the ride finished.
Imagine this: You get to the end of the most terrifying rollercoaster in the world, everyone around you is cheering, clapping, and giving you hugs. There is bell you get to ring to signal you survived “The World’s Most Terrifying Rollercoaster”. But the reality is, you are trying to maintain a sense of equilibrium, while ringing this damn bell you couldn’t wait to ring at the beginning but could care less about now. And afterwards, you use the nearest fence to keep yourself upright and hobble off to find a quiet, private space to throw up.
That’s pretty much what that bell ringing moment felt like, minus the puking.
I read an article, recently, by Dr. Peter Harvey, a clinical psychologist, and his framework is that the recovery progress from cancer treatment happens in three stages: recuperation, convalescence, & rehabilitation.
And it really makes sense. Think about it:
- Recuperation = to recharge & recover
- Convalescence = to grow strong
- Rehabilitation = to regain and rebuild your strength
I couldn’t agree more about the recovery process; especially the convalescence period. There were moments in my recovery where I said to friends that all that was missing in my recovery was a convalescence home by the sea; that period of time where I truly felt like I was growing strong again. And not until recently, like just-in-the-last-two-weeks recently, did I feel like I entered into the next stage, rehabilitation.
It feels good to climb out of the depths of hell and catch my breath. I can feel my soul is recharged and my body is strong again.
Speaking of my body, surveillance scans of my body continue to show no evidence of disease and I have been approved for once/month for 6 months laser treatment on my interior arm scar. This scar is pretty hypertrophic, and just overall gnarly, and my Boston team is optimistic this treatment will help soften the scar to allow for increased arm mobility.
There is a chance this treatment does not work. Which puts us out of options, so-to-speak (surgery isn’t an option due to the complex nature of my arm); which I’m OK with. The only hard part is the frequency of trips to Boston that will now need to be made again this Spring and Summer for this treatment.
So…send along your recommendations for podcasts! I love good murder mystery ones! 🙂
Thank you for all the continued well wishes and support!
Much love, Natalie