Hmm – how shall I begin this story? I’ve had so many thoughts and emotions about everything that has happened over the past few months that now it is difficult to put things in a clear and concise order. So I guess I will have to follow the advice my mother always gave me when I was stressed out about one stupid thing or another as a teenager. Advice a therapist professionally echoed many years ago, which was also the inspiration behind this blog’s title: One Step At A Time. It’s a difficult piece of advice for me to follow – I like to see the end before I begin. I want to know how things are going to look, I want to know how a project will conclude, I want to know what the finished product will be before I begin. Then I can visualize how to get there, I can work toward a goal, I can put the pieces together for a quality result. And sometimes in my life, if I can’t visualize the end and figure out a way to get there perfectly, I freeze. But that’s not usually how life works – we don’t always know what the end looks like before we begin, and sometimes we just have to take things one step at a time to see what comes next. Sometimes freezing is not an option. And believe me, nothing has ever hammered that home for me more than cancer.
It’s difficult to start this story for many reasons, but mainly because I don’t really know where it starts. My cancer is rare. And when I say rare, I mean like 200 documented cases worldwide. 200. There have been a lot of “What the actual fuck” moments through this process, but that was one of the most profound. My oncologist has been practicing her specialty for over 20 years and she’s seen 3 of these tumors, including mine. One person lived, one person died, and I guess I’ll be the tie breaker. That’s probably more morbid than my family cares to read, but it’s how I felt when she told me that statistic. And it’s where more of the “one step at a time” mantra comes in. I will write specifically about the cancer in later posts, but to finish this one, I’ll just say that even though we are still in the midst of this major life-altering situation, I’m ok. I attribute that to a few things:
1. My husband, Mason, and our families: Plain and simple, I could not do this without them. They are my rocks in this very stormy, cancer-y sea. They cook, clean, take care of the rowdy toddler (who is recently two but has exhibited “terrible two-ness” for some time now), walk the crazy dog, write notes at doctor’s appointments, listen, love, and when none of that is what I need, they sit and cry with me.
2. My doctors. It took awhile to get to this diagnosis, and I had to advocate for myself a lot (more on that later too). But they advocated just as hard, even when I didn’t want to hear it. Things might look a lot different if they weren’t willing to fight just as much as I was.
3. My childhood panic attacks. Yeah – I don’t often feel thankful for those, but when you start having anxiety and panic attacks at age 11, you learn some good coping mechanisms along the way and they can serve you well in these situations.
4. Friends and colleagues. They call, text, check in, make meals, visit, take projects off my plate, buy books for my kid, and sometimes they cry with me too.
5. My mantra. “One step at a time”. It’s weird to call it a mantra – I’m not really a mantra-kind of person. But through some of the most difficult times in my life, I have found myself repeating the phrase over and over to curb anxiety and figure out what to do next. Maybe I’ll finally get my tattoo – “one step at a time” on the inside of my foot (as my husband rolls his eyes 😊) Maybe it’s more of a directive or an affirmation. Whatever we call it, it’s where we are right now – relishing the normal days without talk of cancer, celebrating victories, large and small, and taking life one step at a time.
Life One Step At A Time 