The Aftermath

I’m not gonna lie.
I’m still emotionally healing from my 2020 cancer diagnosis and treatment.

I didn’t even know there would be aftermath.
I remember excitedly asking my oncologist,
“How soon will I be back to normal?”
He told me six months,
and you better believe I started the countdown.
I wrote down a list of everything I wanted to do once those six months had passed.

But the date came and went,
and I was still weak, unable to do much of anything.

I felt defeated, sad.
I had no idea how hard it would be to get back.

Some things have been forever changed,
never again to be as they were before.

And that was just the physical healing;
not thinking of my emotions.

As I work on my emotional healing,
I keep wanting to write about my experiences.

I believe sharing them can help me and others,
but tears and memories surface
whenever I try.

I remember being alone in a hospital bed,
the oncologist suspecting lymphoma.

I remember surgery day for my cancer port,
with sweet Robert holding my hand.

I remember a kind nurse in remission,
sharing her own lymphoma story.

I remember meeting Sharon, my nurse,
caring for me through every chemo infusion.

I remember endless hours of HGTV
while resting in bed.

I remember needing my mom’s support
to walk to the bathroom.

I remember my dad driving me
to and from appointments.

I remember missing my Robert,
working out-of-state.

I remember waking up in physical pain,
day and night.

I remember missing six months of my kids’ lives,
unable to care for them – or myself.

I tread carefully through these memories,
reminding myself of the good, too.

My faith grew stronger,
I found joy and laughter through it all.

I refused to let a diagnosis
take me to a dark place.

Friends, family, and strangers
rallied around me.

My incredible medical team
was knowledgeable, kind, and supportive.

In the infusion room, I smiled
at fellow chemo patients.

I am who I am,
seeing the world through the lens of my experiences.

Trauma takes many forms, triggered unexpectedly.
Healing is a slow process, not linear.
Two steps forward, one step back, sometimes no movement at all.
Yet, I know I must move forward, facing it all,
remembering how I got through it.
I wasn’t alone, relying on healing scriptures
and faith in One greater than myself.

Writing is healing, too.
I write through the pain,
knowing it will hurt less in time.