The Inner Strength of Endurance

I wanted it not to have an effect on anything. I wanted to believe that even though I was in cancer treatment, it didn’t have to touch the rest of my life.

I pushed to never miss a day of work or do a job halfway. I traveled and hiked and drove halfway across the country. I started to date and pretend that everything was normal and the cancer was just a little thing. But the pressure of treatment was quietly doing a number on my resolve. The fact was, cancer treatment did have an effect on everything.

With only the expectations that I put upon myself, I pushed myself to the breaking point. Constantly confused about why my white blood cell count never rose above the absolute minimum of acceptability since chemo #2, I pushed away rest and tried to continue on with my pre-cancer life. I put undue pressure on myself to perform when no one was asking me to. I took a trip to California and spent half of the weekend sprawled out on my friend’s couch.

 I spent weeks communicating with a mutual acquaintance and in the days leading up to our first meeting, totally lost it. I had my final chemo coming up on Monday and had planned this exciting weekend in San Antonio for those two days prior, but I had failed to consider how the emotional mind mess of approaching my final chemo would affect my interactions with this new guy. Where I had been excited and carefree, I was suddenly sullen and standoffish. I sent him a message of apology in tears and then felt self-conscious that this early in the dating process this guy would know that I cry sometimes.

The anxiety of approaching final chemo had been pounding in my chest for weeks, until I finally came face-to-face with the facts. I had to stop pretending. Obviously my tearful apology and explanation to my date was proof that I couldn’t hide the effects of treatment forever.

I had to stop pretending that chemo didn’t affect everything. I had to stop feeling guilty for being in cancer treatment. I had to quit brushing off my diagnosis as a minor inconvenience and instead realize that this had colored everything, whether I liked it or not. And trust me, I didn’t like it.

What I had to come to terms with was the fact that I didn’t choose this and no one was mad at me about it. I had to start giving myself the grace that so many others had been offering to me since the day I got diagnosed. I had to let myself rest and be honest about my needs. As this realization washed over me, I began to feel peace for the first time in weeks. I felt the stress in my shoulders relax as the tired pressure of proving myself ebbed away like the flowing tide. I felt like I needed a nap and I felt the freedom to take one.

It turned out that instead of the world catching on fire, everything continued to function. My date got to town and fixed the coffee table whose legs were falling off. I entered a weekend with friends with honesty and clarity about my energy levels and stressors. I let myself be taken care of without fighting it. 

I was slowly coming to terms with the fact that cancer did not make me weak and asking for help did not make me an invalid. It was an unavoidable fact that cancer treatment had changed me. Now I just had to accept the budding inner strength of endurance that it had cultivated.