The Day My Life Changed Forever

I found this entry folded up inside my journal, I must have quickly wrote it down one day I didn't have my journal. But this entry definitely should have been posted a LONG time ago.

I remember sitting on that uncomfortable “bed,” if that is what you want to call it. The one they “sterilize” with the crunchy white paper they can discard after your butt leaves. My mom was next to me in a chair, Dahel standing beside her cramped in a corner, and my dad was crunched in another corner of the room in a chair. Everyone was engaged in a completely unusual conversation I am sure. The one where you know you’re about to get some kind of bad news, but we have to keep talking so a butcher knife doesn’t cut the dread of silence for the impending results. I couldn’t even tell you what we were talking about, that doesn’t matter as it serves no purpose in this story. I remember feeling like I was going to puke. Everything runs through your head at a million miles per hour. All the tests that have been done, all the internet research, which let me tell you, can make a person go crazy. Only Google and other internet research sites can turn a symptom into an impending death. I felt like we had been in that room for hours waiting on the doctor to come in, and all I could think about was how fucking hot it was. Right before the doctor came in I remember thinking, “okay, I’m having some kind of surgery, I’m 24 and cancer just isn’t a possibility.” It really was the last thing I thought it could be.

The door opened, a gust of cold air came into the room, the walls returned to their normal places, and an ear piercing silence came over the room.

“Hello Samantha… I’ve got the best bad news I can give you.” I’m sure the dumbfounded look on my face was clear for everyone to see. What does that even mean!?

“Well the good news is you’re not going to need surgery, the bad news is you have Hodgkin’s Lymphoma, or cancer. The other good news is it’s not “non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma” so it’s curable.

I recall immediately saying “I’m going to lose my hair!” Honestly no one wants to sit in a room full of parents were everyone wants to cry and is trying to hold it together until I’m not around anymore. Laughter had to be the cure. I really don’t remember anything after that, so hopefully my family was listening to the next steps in the process. I just felt numb and mentally checked out. I remember very little thoughts for the rest of that day. I went to work and all the warehouse guys were sitting on the steps smoking.

“Did you get your test results?” they were all dying to know every day I came in.

“Yup, I have cancer.” And I shrugged my shoulders and walked into the building. Who does that!? I honestly had no idea how that just calmly came out of my mouth. Okay maybe I do, everyone knows it’s awkward for a girl to just start balling in front of 4 dudes that you’re really not that close to. I guess at that point my body and mind just went on Auto-Pilate.

It took me 24 hours before I lost it and just balled my eyes out.

The emotions are the hardest part. To this day they still are the hardest part of this stupid disease and my recovery.

When the Tears Keep Streaming

I’ve spent the last year of my life in turmoil. The beginning stages of this disease put me in a giant blur of life. Not really aware of what was going on, confused, and numb. Then my body went into fight mode. Every other week that I was pumped full of those toxic drugs for 2 and ½ hours at a time; I would slowly recover from what felt like death. Of course I don’t really know what death feels like, but the way I felt was pretty close I am sure. The cycle of drugs and tests lasted 8 months. During that time I remember feeling strong, hopeful, like a true warrior. (For the most part) Now I am 4 months cancer free and I feel the worst out of the entire experience.

I’ve never really believed in depression. I have always been such an optimistic person that I never really understood what it feels like to cry all day, every day, and not know the reason why. The thought of me being depressed makes me depressed. Like I am completely incapable of controlling what is happening. Why can’t I just be positive and believe all of this will work itself out. It’s almost like I am punishing myself for not being 100% better. I am better (cancer free that is); everyone else believes I am better because I have completed treatment. That isn’t always the case. Cancer doesn’t end with remission; it’s always on my mind. I catch myself checking the lymph nodes in my neck on a daily basis now. My chest hurts and I get a pit in my stomach. I wake up sweating and the first thing I am asking Ashley is if she was sweating last night. Every night I have these vivid dreams that I wake up and the cancer is back. I don’t want to sleep because I don’t know what subconscious thoughts are going to haunt my dreams that night. I haven’t eaten because food makes me nauseous. I’ve spend more time crying in the last few weeks than I think I ever have in my entire life. From the time I wake up to the time I go to sleep if I’m not balling I’m doing my best to choke back the tears. Sometimes there is not even a reason I’m crying, it’s like this uncontrollable behavior that just happens. A lot of the time I cry because I’m talking to these people at that just want to be miserable. But I won’t even get into that.

I just want to feel like I have a purpose. I’ve spent the last 5 years with this dream of getting into the banking industry, and now that I have finally got my foot in the door it’s nothing that I expected. It’s like everything I have worked for and dreamed about is just shattered. I’m sure that has something to do with the way cancer has changed me as a person. Even if I wasn’t in collections, I no longer want to work for a big bank, or a big company for that matter. I just want to help other people, specifically people dealing with cancer. Right now I feel so unstable that it’s probably not possible. All I want is to feel happiness, feel whole again. I want to see the light at the end of the tunnel I am in. I’m tired of the darkness. I’m determined to one day be 100% better, I suppose that time just hasn’t arrived yet.